#oop better take another one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satorena · 29 days ago

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HOTLINE BL☆NG!

summ. wine nights and free will? a recipe for disaster— such as matching your ex on a corny dating app and having him in your bed within that same hour. . .

cw. eventual smut. 18+. fem!reader. alcohol/substance consumption. ex boyfriend!gojo. mild toxicity. breakup & makeup. girlhood ft jjk girlies. unreliable narrator sorta. sukuna slander. mild impact play. mild asphyxiation. oral (f). fíngering. backshōts. reader is a little questionable. self sabotaging my beloved. lowkey angsty. @/3aem on tumblr for art creds. most of these stories are real shit i’ve heard/experienced LOL. can you tell i’ve never used tinder a day in my life? 16.4k words. . oops.

rena’s note. @yung-notorious and her filthy mind. . .

“you like it when i fuck you like this? yeah you do.”

god, you do.

you can’t bring yourself to remember why you’d ever let go of dick this good. the kind that had you taking the rubber off and considering finishing inside. the kind that had you babbling apologies for having done absolutely nothing wrong. the kind that made you begin to believe his careless whispers, empty promises to work things out.

his fingers dig in the column of your throat, the weight of his hand wrapped tightly at your neck. he’s everywhere at once, but simultaneously no where to be found. while you can feel his tip prodding at your most sensitive spot, you don’t feel the overwhelming force of love he once bore with open arms for you.

“nahhh. . . don’t start running now.” you didn’t realize you were. the sheets are crumpled in your tight hold, while your other hand lightly pushes at his lower abdomen. naturally, he pins your wrist at your spine to maintain his ruthless pace, and with another gentle yet cruelly empty promise, “not when i’ve just gotten you back.”

how the fuck did you get yourself in this mess?

friday nights were meant to decompose after a long week. a cute tradition you followed— sipping on moscato wine and munching on takeout with your homegirls while the lamest horror movie played as background noise. the skincare bit happened every third friday of the month, which fell on this particular night, thin layers of korean products lathering at your skins while fluffy headbands sat atop your hairlines, keeping stray hairs away.

it was an easy way of recapping all of your week’s worth of bullshit and listing each girl’s new lineup of men of the season.

girlhood.

“i’m cool off men for a whileee,” you sigh, placing your third wine glass on the coffee table. you tuck your legs back onto the couch, propping your head into your palm. you watch as shoko, who’s seated on the floor, grabs your glass and fills it with another unsolicited round. you narrow your eyes at her, “after the shit kuna pulled— girl, slow down!”

“don’t watch me,” shoko chews at her unlit blunt tucked in her teeth, lifting an arm above her head to pass you your refill. despite the slight spin of the room, you accept the cup against better judgment, “keep talking. what the fuck did he do now?”

“you mean what didn’t he do,” seated in the pink bean bag rested on the floor, utahime quips. in between her teeth sits a wooden stick, drizzled in the honey-like wax residue she smeared over her shin. “i woulda left his ass the second i found out he— FUCK— lived with his mama at his big age.”

as utahime soothes her smoothened skin, yuki leans over the coffee table to grab at the blunt passed over to her. “y/n baby, you know i love you,” she starts off, taking a deep inhale before ghosting the smoke. you can tell she’s about the cook the shit out of you, “but come on— he lives in his parents’ basement. was that not a red flag in itself? is that seriously the kind of man you see yourself marrying.”

“nevermind the fact he’s pushing thirty and still unemployed,” shoko throws in her two cents, takeout back in her lap as she breaks open a new set of chopsticks, “he’s one more ‘tap in’ away from getting caught by the feds.”

“how much y’all wanna bet he’s at the club right now as we speak?” it’s a rhetorical question, but utahime pauses her waxing to check. with sticky fingers, she taps away at her phone, and with a knowing smile she yelps, tilting her screen towards you three, “aha!— and there goes the infamous money spread.”

“cornballllll.” shoko cringes.

you’re filled with dread and shame at the sight presented. god— every single chance you gave this man, he spun around and somehow does worse. it’s not like the two of you were together— never officially, but the sole fact that you’ve let this man treat you as if you were his girl haunts you. you’ve let countless of bullshit slide all because his stroke game came second within all the men you’ve dealt with.

the only thing you’ll give him besides a being a good lay is that you’ve never had issues concerning other women. he’s a very transparent guy— you’ve yet to receive a “hey girlie. . .” text from anybody. though, it isn’t like either of you have ever dropped any hard launches. it was mostly content that only close friends could catch onto— the interior design of his car, your latest set of nails, subtle shots of his tattoos, your purses and jewelry. nothing evident but pretty obvious to those who know.

if sukuna was still cool with him, however. . . yeah, he’d definitely know, considering the fact he purchased most of the purses you own. that’s excluding the fact your favorite necklace, the one with your name engraved, the one you always wear, was also bought by him.

“move,” you push utahime’s hand away from your peripheral, slumping further into the couch. embarrassment floods you yet again, and you drown it away with more wine. much to your chagrin, they spare no mercy as they giggle at your pout, “not too much on me— shoko, you’re literally the one who put me on!”

“don’t do that,” she rolls her eyes, picking at the orange chicken on her platter. you have half a mind at chucking your drink at her. “all i told you was to fuck him. nobody said anything about keeping him around.”

“instructions: unclear,” utahime giggles, smearing another coat of wax mixture onto her calves. “she’s now a year deep into a situationship with a man who files for disability checks to blow on parlays.”

you spring up in your seat, your wine nearly spilling on shoko in your excitement, “shit, i never told you guys!”

“told us what?” yuki kills the blunt in the ash tray, and stretches an arm to grab at her food. she knocks over a few emptied bottles as they roll on the carpet, and winces when one of them knock at shoko’s knee, “my fault girl.”

shoko clicks her tongue, but you loop your arms around her neck as you proceed, “before you bitches attacked me for literally just being a girl,” you decide ignore the way they all groan, “i was trying to tell you all why i finally ended shit with him.”

“well don’t hold back now!” utahime eggs on.

“guess what i found out,” you set the empty wine glass back onto the table. you’re most likely gonna need your hands in this specific conversation, “he bet thirty thousand dollars on the super bowl game— and lost.”

the room falls quiet. utahime pauses in her ripping, yuki drops her noodles from her chopsticks and shoko nearly chokes on her wine. amidst it all, three pairs of eyes slowly crawl to meet your gaze, in complete disbelief at what you’d told them.

“are you deadass?” shoko speaks first, her facial expression almost incredulous. her eyes are teary from her food slipping through the wrong tube. “you’re playing, right? right?”

“she has to be. . . this is a new level of low even for him.” yuki shakes her head, most likely in attempts to give him the benefit of the doubt. you don’t blame her— no sane person would drop thirty grand on a fucking betting app of all things— and on top of that, lose.

“i wish i was?!” you groan, still upset, “the worst part is that he told me that money was supposed to be deposit money for a condo he’d been,” you raise your fingers in air quotes, “looking into.”

“you know what though? this doesn’t actually surprise me,” utahime laughs, as if she hadn’t been in a daze for a solid minute. she rips at the strip, and winces, “didn’t i just say he was getting checks to place on parlays? frank gallagher looking ass.”

“but thirty thousand?” yuki emphasizes, blinking rapidly in her disbelief, “what the fuck would possess somebody to bet thirty grand on anything?”

“grown ass man, by the way.” shoko mumbles mindlessly, before chowing down some more food. you can’t find it in yourself to disagree.

utahime nods, blowing a puff of air, “on god, bro. don’t he got mortgages to pay off or some shit?”

yuki shoots her a deadpanned look, “girl, with what house.”

and that had been your final straw with him. not the fact he lived in his mother’s basement despite clearly having money to rent out a place, or the fact he was still flexing bands he allegedly has on the gram— but blowing all your money on a fucking football game. and losing. you do respect yourself, as much as these girls believe you don’t. a man with no ambitions and no money? you need to run and far.

“i’ll miss his dick though.” you pout, the alcohol already coursing through your body. being wine drunk always made you horny, that was a known fact, and letting go of one of your greatest eaters was not on your bingo card. naturally, the girls roll their eyes at your antics, “boo me all you want— he horsed me the fuck around in bed.”

“you used to say the same shit about gojo,” utahime points out, rising to her feet as she grabs the used strips in her hold, before circling around the couch, “and look how that ended up.”

technically. . . she wasn’t exactly wrong but that still stung a bit. “hime, seriously?” shoko rolls her eyes, and you feel her hand rubbing at your foot soothingly. her motions are a little stiff but you appreciate the sentiment, “we get you don’t fuck with him but he was still her man. and basically my friend, kinda.”

you hear her wince in the kitchen, followed by footsteps, “right. . . sorry girlie.” she runs back to you after throwing the waste away, and kisses at your temple. she doesn’t comment on the pout on your lips. “i didn’t mean it. . . okay maybe i did, but i’m still sorry!”

your history with gojo was complicated. you’d met him through shoko in your third year of college, at a kickback party hosted by his people. it’d been an invite only thing, but shoko had brought you along as a plus one, and you both instantly connected. as far as you were concerned, it was technically supposed to be a sneaky link vibe, but you soon learned gojo was anything but sneaky. in fact, he was so vocal in him wanting you, that he actually did end up getting you a couple months later.

he’s a year older than you, therefore he’d graduated a year ahead. the separation in itself was something you hadn’t looked forward to at all, but he had found himself a condo downtown, not too far from your residency, therefore seeing each other hadn’t been an issue. he always made it clear he wanted to see you— even after gruelling nine to five shifts in the office. his words matched his actions, driving you up to his place since yours had a stupid curfew policy for visitors.

(you’ve kept him in your dorm numerous times.) (your closet has suffered enough with his lanky ass.)

the first year worked out for the better. he was still welcomed to the parties you invited him to, he made time in his schedule help you with your studies, planned consist dates and even took you out on trips. he was physically, mentally and emotionally present— and you genuinely believed he would be your forever man when you’d introduced him to your parents at your graduation ceremony and he seemed thrilled. they adored him— and that says a lot considering they hated all your other exes. with good reason, but still.

it’d been the honeymoon phase until it wasn’t.

you expected arguments. those are inevitable in relationships, but with every argument he grew distant. you were now both graduated students juggling between jobs, rent and a relationship. it was a lot— your schedules never seemed to align which jumbled into multiple failed dates, which further escalated into more arguments. it hadn’t always been him, you could agree you were at fault too. that post graduation depression spiralled worst than you’d anticipated— the fear of falling behind when your boyfriend had already been successful so early into his career entirely consuming.

he reassured you plenty, but you could see it in his face as he spoke to you— he was exhausted. of work. of life. of you. he had bigger fish to fry than dealing with a workaholic girlfriend with low self esteem. the bigger the promotion, the less your value. you’d seen this play out before— it was less i love you’s and more hours in the office. less dinner dates and more project plannings.

the more time you spent by yourself, the more your mind began overthinking. you had no place in his life anymore. you didn’t resent him for it— you wish nothing but the best for him. he deserves to be successful in life, and he’s already so close to it. your slacking behind is nothing more than dead weight in his rise to the top.

the breakup had been anticipated. you’d broken up with him first. he never asked you to explain why. he nodded, never uttering a word. it’d been the first time you’d seen him in weeks. you kept it simple, “we should break up.” and he kept it even simpler, a curt bounce of the head in agreement. as quick as he’d entered your apartment, he left.

and that’d honestly been it. you’d been together for four years, and broken up for a year and a half. after all this time, you still don’t resent him for it. he made the rational choice in prioritizing himself and his future, and you simply didn’t fit in it. it took you quite some time to work on yourself as well, and you’re honestly satisfied with where you are in life. the breakup clearly worked in favour for you both.

it sucks that he was genuinely the only man you ever cared about. the only man you can confidently say you loved.

“look— now you got her thinking about him!” shoko complains, chucking the nearest thing— a throw pillow, at utahime. it hits her square in the face, to which she lets out a muffled oof! “way to fucking go.”

you blink out of your thoughts. well that’s embarrassing, you got caught up in the past again. you lift yourself from the slumping position you’d unintentionally fallen into the midst of daydreaming, “shit, my bad. got flashbacks to that time he ate me off the bone after his first promotion.”

“yo, what?!” yuki hollers, falling into a fit of laughter. shoko rolls her eyes so much you’re thinking it’ll get stuck at the back of her skull and utahime physically cringed from head to toe. “so fucking unserious— here we are, worried about your ass and here you go, upset you lost your best eater.”

not exactly, though there was some truth to her words. gojo was your best eater, and nobody’s topped him since. he really did tongue fuck you that night like you were the boss who raised his pay. but it wasn’t just the sex you missed— you wholeheartedly missed him. the closest thing to a soul bond you’ve experienced, now gone.

they don’t need to know all that though.

“oh come on,” utahime groans, picking at her nails. trust her to find any reason to slander your ex. for what reason? she’s never told you other than him annoying the fuck out of her, “he could not have been that great. it can’t be anything you can’t find elsewhere— plenty of men eat pussy.”

“okay but do they enjoy eating it or is it more of a duty thing?” yuki points out, rolling her thumb on her lighter mindlessly. she watches the flame arise, casting a soft glow on the sheet stuck to her face, “because you can definitely tell the difference. one eats for foreplay, the other eats for his own pleasure.”

shoko hums in agreement, still poking at her plate, “a man versus a munch,” and with a beat of silence, she takes a deep sigh, throwing her head back, “i should call him.”

“no! no you should not,” utahime laughs, before shooting you a glance. your smile quickly falters and is switched with a look of confusion as she points a nail filer in your direction, “and you,” you cock a brow, “stop thinking about him. we’re supposed to be independent women, y’all need to stand the fuck up.”

“hime, please, you were literally just complaining to your close friends about your latest dry spell.”

“irrelevant!” she dismisses yuki, waving a hand absentmindedly. you don’t see how it’s irrelevant exactly, but you let her proceed. “we are sexy, successful and strong women. stop relying on the past and focus on the future. there are bitches that fought for their lives for the freedom we have! you could literally get dick anywhere— they actually have apps for it, if you didn’t know—”

“so tell us, o’mighty one,” shoko cuts her off, “are you suggesting we download tinder to relieve our stress?”

she remains quiet, and you can see the gears churning in her head. you’re about ninety nine percent positive shoko was fucking around, but the scrunch in your friend’s eyebrows tells you she’s seriously contemplating the idea, “. . yes actually.” she finally decides.

“hime. . .” shoko groans, but is effectively cut off when she springs up to her knees to grab at her phone.

“no, seriously, think about it!” she scrolls through her phone like a maniac, searching through the app store and typing the name in. you all watch her incredulously, her enthusiasm in the matter as if she hadn’t been preaching about feminism half a minute ago, “i’ve met some of my best lays in college through tinder. i haven’t been on this app in years though.”

you don’t see why not. you were pretty tipsy and would never have agreed to this under typical conditions, however it could be regarded as a bonding activity. you also haven’t been on tinder since before your last relationship, and the shit sukuna put you through this past year was enough to make you want to deal with literally anything else.

“i’m down.” you pull out your phone, and shoko may have gotten whiplash with how quick she snaps her head back to eye you. you shrug your shoulders, “we don’t have to take this shit seriously— god knows i’m not entertaining anybody on this app for real.”

“exactly!” utahime nods, walking up to scoot herself beside you. she nudges at shoko with her foot, who flicks at her toes to keep her away, “it’s just for shits and giggles.”

“i’m definitely not doing this shit,” yuki crawls to sit at the couch’s feet, right at shoko’s side, and grabs at the remote sitting uselessly on the table, “but i will be watching you both embarrass yourselves.”

“the only other bitch with common sense here.” shoko sprawls her legs onto yuki’s lap. she receives a slap at the back of her head by utahime, and naturally she slaps the hand right back. “can’t stand that little fucker sometimes.”

“aweee, love you too!” she blows a kiss at her to which she receives a middle finger. you snort, eyes glued on your screen as you redownload that forsaken app back into your phone.

you’d probably regret it in the morning, but that was something saturday you would have to deal with. as of right now, with white wine in your system, logic was not an option. you were learning to live more in the moment, and apparently that starts with the corniest dating app in the world.

it’s not like you’d magically stumble upon your ex on the platform. now wouldn’t that be something? ha!

there’s no fucking way.

this had to be one big, fat cosmic joke. a cruel prank, even. and if it was, then the universe had a twisted sense of humour. you still don’t believe it— were the girls in on this? this kind of shit didn’t just happen to anybody.

it took about a total of twenty minutes between logging back into your old account, updating your password and bio, and swiping left on passing profiles until you landed on it. on. . . him.

you blink slowly. your phone is shaky beneath your unstable hands, and you’re pretty sure you’ve been holding your breath in far longer than recommended for the average human. it’s quiet as fuck in the room— despite the three girls huddled over your shoulders, sticking their noses in all directions to get a clearer view of your illuminating screen— almost as if to confirm if what they were seeing was truly was they were seeing, as if this was all too fucking ironic to be true.

there’s a knot of anxiousness that simmers in the pits of your stomach. you’re pretentiously aware that even the slightest movement— one wrong click or swipe, would ultimately change everything. there was too much at risk here. “oh there’s no fucking way. . .” shoko speaks up first.

utahime leans in impossibly closer, a few centimetres away from fully emerging with your iphone as her nose scrunches, “way too sexy? fuck around and find out? god, he’s still so corny, i swear.”

your eyes trail over his biography, curiously. that “way2sexy” had been an inside joke you both shared years ago— back when drake had dropped one of gojo’s favourite albums, certified loverboy. he overplayed the shit out of that song when it came out, so much that you received multiple complaints from your RA for “public disturbance”, but he swore it worked as daily affirmations for him in the same sense crystals and tarot cards worked for spiritual girlies. you called him corny for it, but before you knew it, it’d shown up in your spotify wrapped the following year.

rapid memories of morning rays of light peeking through blinds, a groggy yet mysteriously clear “alexa, play way 2 sexy” as you fixed your sheets and lit your candles, fighting over who gets to spit toothpaste residue first, hearty laughter to fumbled lyrics, shared minty kisses paired with one “gimme one more” too many.

the ache clenching at your heart is hard to ignore.

“i would give him the benefit of the doubt in believing he hasn’t updated his account,” yuki draws out, eyes narrowing as a finger sticks out to point, “but his age matches. emoticons as a grown man. . . no shade though.”

his age did match. inside joke aside, none of it was adding up. if he already had his account set up years ago, had he willingly changed his bio to one of your most infamous gags after the breakup? if you were to swipe right right now, would it instantly match? you don’t think you want to figure it out— both possible outcomes scaring you shitless.

“should i swipe left?” you speak uncharacteristically softly, torn between the idea of tucking your tail inwards and running away from the opportunity or your typical it is what it is mentality.

“yes! obviously— mmmph?!”

“do you want to?” shoko, with a pillow stuffing an agitated utahime in the face, counters. between all the girls, she seemed to understand you the most, granted her own relationship with the man. you’re sure he had given her his own version of their breakup, how you’d opened the doors to endless opportunities for him, had given him the easy way out. you never bothered asking her, afraid of the illusion you’d created to shield yourself shattering, “only you have the answer to that.”

“i honestly don’t know,” you sigh, joints in your thumb aching from hovering over your screen for too long. swiping left meant completely abandoning any the possibility of the two of you as one. you don’t want that responsibility weighted on your shoulders again, “what if he’s moved on? the shit that’ll do to my ego if i swipe right and he passes on me?”

shoko finally grants her friend the permission of speech, freeing her off the couch decoration, though the look she gives her serves as a warning to tread lightly. with a heavy breath, utahime releases a puff, “i’d crashout, just sayin’.”

“but what if he hasn’t moved on?” yuki poses, and apparently that was all the confirmation you needed to swipe. fuck pride— pride wasn’t going to get your back blown out. pride wasn’t going to help you get the love of your life back. pride can go fuck itself.

“wait—”

utahime is cut off again, however, not by shoko but tinder itself. the notification pings loudly, resonating in depths of your ear cavity and shoots straight to your chest. you can feel your heart pounding wildly against your rib cage. it’s so silent you can hear a pin drop, and the way your gut churns gives away the end result to your spontaneity.

it’s a match.

“well. . . shit.” shoko slumps back into the couch nonchalantly, and you don’t need to see her to know she’s sporting a smirk. you do feel her knee knock into yours. fake ass idgafer.

you’re no better, biting down your bottom in order to suppress the smile itching to spread. a year later and the sole idea that he’d already came across the same mindset as you, willing to give whatever it was that needed a second shot, had you beyond delusional. god, you need help.

“look at youuu, cheesin’ and shit!” yuki pokes at your cheek and you swat her hand away, ultimately caving into the smile. fuck yeah you were geeked— it’s hard carrying a nonchalant attitude when you were an honest to god, soft hearted lovergirl. if you played your cards right, with a few lash bats and glossy lips, you’d be getting dicked down in no time.

“i’m gonna be sick.” utahime deadpans.

“and i’m getting dickkk,” you sing, jumping to your feet as you stood on the couch. you turn around, hands clutching onto the headrest, giving your ass a cute shake as it rotates in circular motions. you feel shoko’s hand tapping it encouragingly, her phone illuminating as it records while she rests her head on your moving thighs. you hear yuki cackle, pulling out her phone to film as well. you giggle, “rip that pussy!”

“ayeeee!” they complete the lyrics, and the vibes are restored yet again, girly giggles filling the room. when your legs begin to feel wobbly, you stop your twerking to plop yourself right back down, leaning your head onto shoko’s shoulder.

you hear her click her tongue as the recording of your ass graces her screen, and she groans, “gojo is one lucky bastard— he can’t handle all that.”

he most definitely can, and has. you’ll opt with shrugging in the meantime.

“with that being said,” utahime jumps in, crossing her legs, “what’s the next move here? you reaching out first?”

your lips straighten as your mind reflects. if you still know him as well as you think you do, he’s definitely going to text you first as soon as he sees the green light. sure, you were anxious for a reply, desperate to check what his temperature was— but you’d already sacrificed a grand amount of dignity just swiping right. he could do take on the role of texting first.

“nah, i’m almost a hundred percent sure he’ll—”

ping!

you all whip your heads to the source of the sound. your phone. the screen shines as it undergoes facial recognition, and exposes the messenger. from tinder. gojo. sending you a message. just as you’d expected.

you can’t help the cocky smile, eyes trailing at their perplexed faces, “—text me first.”

naturally, the girls are impressed. even you are— that timing? would it be insane to genuinely be considering gojo might honest to god be your soulmate? yuki blows a puff of air, followed by a laugh, “your pussy has to be magical cause what the fuck?”

“ladies and gentlemen,” utahime stands to her feet, fisting her hand into an imaginary microphone, and addresses her fake crowd. in the hostiest voice she can muster, she curtsies as she continues in comedic fashion, “miss pussy fairy in thee flesh.”

“put a stamp on it.” shoko shakes her head in acknowledgment, laying her own phone in her lap as she claps. yuki places two fingers in her mouth and whistles at you, to which you rise to your own feet and dramatically place a hand over your chest in faux humility.

“oh please!” you flatter yourself, tucking your hair behind your ear. you smile behind your palm, your improv classes in high school coming in clutch, “this is too much— thank you! thank you deeply.”

“girl, byeee,” utahime breaks character first, giggling as she sits back onto the abandoned bean bag. you mimic her motions, as she pops open a stray water bottle and swallows a big gulp, “open his text! i wanna see what he said!”

you’re in the same boat, thumbing at your phone to unlock it and open the app. naturally the girls hover over you yet again, just as eager to see how he finally broke the no contact phase. it took him less than three minutes to slide in your messages, as the option had finally been granted.

right as your thumb hovers the message, a hum draws out your throat, “how much y’all wanna bet it’s something corny?” you tease, something close to a hunch giving it away. seeing as your assumptions were deemed accurate just a few minutes ago, the only way he’d think of clearing the ice would be with something plausibly lame.

“open itttt!” utahime ushers you, hands clamping at your shoulders. you roll your eyes, letting her dramatics sway your body back and forth before she lets up. you let out a sigh, and open the unanswered message.

and just as you’d predicted. . .

@gsatoru: they say shooters shoot 👀

“oh brotherrrr,” the girls groan in sync, and even you can’t stop the cringe that stiffens your face. if there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s the fact he still doesn’t act his age. he needs to let those college days go.

“now, what’d i tell y’all.” you tut, leaving out the part of nostalgia simmering deep and warmly in your bones at his predictability. ever the goofy he was, gojo satoru. jeez.

“i was really found myself rooting for him too,” shoko sighs, rising to her feet. she dusts at her lap then stretches her limbs lazily, “i’m gonna go pee— hime, i swear to god, don’t take my seat.” she doesn’t look back to flip her off when she hears utahime blow raspberries her way. to which, against shoko’s wishes, leaps over to snatch her seat.

both you and yuki give her a deadpanned look, but yuki voices out your thoughts, “she’s gonna get on your ass and i’m not helping you out.”

“girl, boo.” utahime rolls her eyes, “more importantly, what the fuck do you answer to that?” her nail taps at your phone screen, peering at you expectantly through lashes.

you consider your options. do you reciprocate the same energy or do you call him out on his corniness? matching his vibe would be like starting off a blank slate— a new start, new conversations, something almost superficial. like a fling you meet at the bars for one night of fuckery that you regret the next morning. but calling him out would induce in falling into familiar patterns— calling him a cornball while he attempts to sweet talk you, old conversations brought up, risking broken boundaries for the sake of reminiscing.

decisions, decisions, decisions.

“i’m thinking taking the easy way out.” you nod your head, readying your fingers as you type your response out.

you miss the exchanged glances between utahime and yuki, too busy trying to format how to come off playful but not forgetful. flirty but not desperate. come pull up on me but demurely. well you’ll be damned— in what world had you ever expected second guessing yourself for gojo?

“what’s the easy way out?” yuki asks, and you hit send. where this confidence comes from is beyond you, but any error you make you can blame on the wine (you’re hardly fazed but it’s nice to have something to pin the blame on instead of yourself) (old habits die hard).

you tilt your phone, holding it out as you watch the girls’ brows furrow, eyes scanning over the screen. when their faces contort into a look of amusement mixed with horror, a girly giggle escapes your throat.

@yourstrulyname: sukuna ryomen wsp with you?? 🙈

“you didn’t!” utahime hollers, her laughter so intense she doubled over to clutch at her stomach. yuki sways her body back and forth as she finds herself in a hysterical fit as well. “goddd, i would kill to see the look on his face right now.”

“yooo, that’s evil.” the blonde swipes at a tear. “woulda had me deactivating the whole account.”

“who’s deactivating?” shoko pops back in, not without slapping utahime upside the head. she ignores the way utahime complains in favour to swipe a nearly emptied bottle to pour.

“it’s not even that bad,” you defend yourself, flashing her your screen as she installs herself in the bean bag utahime once occupied. her eyes squint as she reads the conversation, nearly bulging out their sockets when she catches your message, “nahhh, don’t give me that!”

“if he gives you the time of day after that,” shoko swirls the wine in her glass, snorting, “he must really still be in love with you.”

“he should know i’m playing. . .” you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince the girls, him or yourself. you really were just joking around— albeit a terrible joke, but one regardless! sukuna was officially removed from the roster, a financially irresponsible man never standing a chance against you, “right?”

“don’t ask us?” utahime chimes in, uselessly, to which you roll your eyes. well shit, maybe you should double text? let him know you were just fooling around, trying to check temperatures and establish the mood. your phone pings again, and all unnecessary thoughts are thrown out the window.

@gsatoru: oh so you got jokes now?

as you’re about to let him know you’ve been had jokes, but never the goofy type, you see the bubbles pop up, a telltale that he’s got more to tell you. you let him have it, already having possibly fumbled the mission before even starting. it feels like an eternity and a half waiting on his text, the girls having huddled over you yet again, just as curious to see what he had to counter with.

@gsatoru: can’t be a joke if the guy had you outside on valentine’s day tho. stk steakhouse? really girl?

your jaw falls slack. you watch with burning eyes at your screen as your built up suspicions were ultimately confirmed. okay, so those two were still somehow connected. you didn’t like to question male friendships, the lack of loyalty not one you’d ever understand. god forbid you ever started fucking with utahime’s ex of many years.

“wait. .” said girl speaks up, drawing the word out as she processes his answer. her tongue rolls around in her mouth, face cringing as the next words follow, “i can’t lie, he kinda ate you up.”

“just sassy as fuck,” shoko laughs, and it’s one of those giggles reserved to shit she honestly finds hilarious, “really girl is crazy. all comfortably like he’s one of your homegirls.”

“now what’s wrong with stk’s?” yuki grumbles, picking at her nails with a childish pout on her lips, “everybody isn’t born with a silver spoon plugged up our asses. god, i can’t stand rich people.”

you don’t bother answering the girls, already aware he chewed with his response, that he’s as sassy as he was years ago and that he had found that particular steakhouse shabby despite it being a fucking steakhouse. these were things you already knew. your thumbs proceed before your mind can register,

@yourstrulyname: been keeping tabs on me?

“you don’t look too happy,” shoko pokes at your cheek. there’s an ache creasing in your forehead, and you relax the furrow of your brows. you’re not exactly upset, just a bit on edge with his approach— you can’t tell whether he’s on tens or not. whether he’s genuinely joking around or not.

“i’m fine.” you poke back, and she nods. she ushers the other girls to pick a new movie to play, and you clock this is her way of allowing you some privacy between exes. you shoot her a grateful look, and she offers a sly wink. you’ll make sure to update her on whatever happens as soon as it’s over.

you switch your ringer off, and open his new message.

@gsatoru: hard not to when he posts you like he has smth to prove

@yourstrulyname: who said it was me?

you knew it was you. you knew he knew it was you. but still, you wanted to hear it from him yourself, wanted to know if he really was keeping tabs on you ever since the breakup. it’d help ease your mind with unanswered questions.

@gsatoru: you mean besides the bags and jewelry i got you?

@gsatoru: your build was a dead giveaway. could recognize you blindfolded in a room full of women

you bit your lip. you could work with this text, play around with it and see if shit flips. would he fall for the bait? you’ll start off slow, create an opening and see if he decides to indulge.

@yourstrulyname: like what you saw?

he answers instantly and your heart sinks a bit.

@gsatoru: of course

@gsatoru: you’re as a beautiful as the day you left me

is that how he saw it? you assume you did leave him in a practical sense, but there was no way he hadn’t seen it coming miles away. you had both been caught up in your lives, the additional stress of romance an unwanted factor in the rise of your careers. so yeah, you’d given him the opportunity to leave. it’s not as if he fought it anyway, so did you really leave him if he’d closed the door on his merry way out?

this was starting to get personal. toeing between the line of uncharted territory and familiarity. everything you didn’t want— debriefing the logic behind the underwhelming breakup on tinder of all places was out of the fucking question.

@yourstrulyname: you still cool with sukuna?

@gsatoru: something like that

@gsatoru: he’s slimey as fuck for sliding on you tho

you figured as much. you couldn’t imagine a world where gojo wouldn’t feel some type of way at his friend going after his ex girlfriend a couple months fresh off a breakup. he probably felt the same way towards you, the difference being one owes him more loyalty than the other.

@yourstrulyname: and what does that make me?

@gsatoru: did he mean something to you?

he didn’t. you think of the importance of somebody meaning something to you— the fear of losing that person larger than life itself. the joy of waking up in that person’s arms on a rainy morning. the vulnerability in bonding souls with that person. the relief your body undergoes as it melts in that person’s embrace.

he didn’t mean shit to you.

@yourstrulyname: no

@gsatoru: then that makes you someone who made a choice

neutral and impassive. you wondered if he truly meant that. in a sense, you assume he really did mature.

@yourstrulyname: so he’s in the wrong but i’m not?

@gsatoru: who am i to assign right from wrong? you’re both adults at the end of the day

you don’t know what to answer to that. there was a lot of truth to his words— you were both consenting adults with choices made. jeez, just what had gojo gone through all these months that made him none the wiser? you’re considering leaving him on opened for a while, at least until you come up with an answer to that philosophical ass message, when he double texts you.

@gsatoru: this is so backwards lmaoo. what’s good with you? how’ve you been?

so he realized it too. thank fuck— skipping small talk and diving into the nitty gritty this late at night was not how you expected your night to go. the girls had completely forgotten your predicament, invested in the latest reality tv show flashing on your flat screen.

@yourstrulyname: been good. you?

@gsatoru: wow you’re as dry as ever

@gsatoru: life’s been blessed, could be better tho. too much to explain over text

oh? was this what you were thinking it was?

@yourstrulyname: what are you getting at, gojo?

@gsatoru: gojo? so it’s fuck me then

@gsatoru: not getting at anything. ball’s in your court, yn

so it was. you contemplate it for a second— should you invite him over tonight? the girls won’t be upset about kicking them out, and if anything they’d encourage you to call them as soon as it’s over. you suppose your doubts lie within the idea of having your ex boyfriend back into your territory. in the comfort of your home, a home he’d once already graced.

as scary as it sounded, you also desperately craved seeing him. it’d been a solid eighteen months since you’ve broken up, and thirteen since you’ve last seen him entirely. ironically, around the time you started getting involved with sukuna. you weren’t sure if it was your heart or pussy talking, but laying up in bed with this man was not something you were against.

fuck it.

@yourstrulyname: you know where i stay at

and his response comes instantly.

@gsatoru: be there in half an hour.

oh fuck.

“yo. . .” you speak up, for the first time in a few minutes. the girls turn their heads, acknowledging you, as you shut your phone close and chuck it across the sofa. “i love y’all but y’all gotta go, like now.”

shoko shakes her head, but there’s a smirk on her lips. utahime, as lost as ever, gives you a frown. yuki has most likely caught on, rising to her feet, dusting her lap, “say no more.”

the girls do you an immense favour as they excuse themselves. they pick at empty bottles and containers, throw dirty dishes in the dishwasher, rearrange the throw pillows and even light up your candles. you feel bad for kicking them out so late, so you pitch in some money for gas as well as the inconvenience.

as they cleaned out your living room and kitchen, you’d rushed to your shower for a mini cleanse. pulling out your bests, you wash over intimate parts thoroughly, lathering your limbs in scented soap, before rinsing, brushing your teeth and stepping out. you stare at your reflection through the haze of steam, the foggy mirror reminding you of the missing messages he used to leave on mornings you had to get to work.

no point in dwelling on the past when he was on his way over this moment. you swap your silk robe for the skimpiest loungewear you own— matching camisole and shorts, and let your hair cascade back down. you’re about your fifth spritz of body spray when the doorbell rings, and your stomach flutters.

you halt in your step when you notice how fast you’re going. yikes! the last thing he needs is his ego inflating, knowing you were rushing to get him inside, nevermind the fact you washed, pulled out your sexiest pyjamas and even wore a brand new pair of panties. you know. . . just for preparations. better safe than sorry.

after the third mindless lap around your kitchen, you make your way towards the door. you inhale sharply, clenching at your shaky fingers, easing your nerves. you quickly snap out of your daze, pulling the door open.

his eyes, momentarily distracted by the number engraved in the wall next to your door, glaze over your figure curiously. his hands are tucked in the pocket of his sweatpants. he lets out a breath, a sound borderlining a chuckle as it shoots straight to both heartbeats, shoulders drop from its hunch,

“hey.”

he’s thick.

no perverted shit. you’ve noticed he’s put on weight in the right places— not to say he’d been anything less than nicely built in the past, but his biceps are significantly fuller and the material of his compression tee stretched over bulging muscles in a telltale pattern.

somebody’s been at the gym one too many.

“you good with this?” he mumbles, hand running across the smooth skin of your calf. with every stroke of his palm are fleeting memories of the past, burning deep into your limb. you hate the way your stomach sinks st the thought, “me being here and shit.”

“wouldn’t have let you in if i wasn’t.” you answer honestly, back pressed into the arm of the couch. you don’t understand how fast he’d gotten comfortable with being in your personal space just like that— you don’t understand how you’d allowed him in your personal space just like that.

he nods, and the air is eerily quiet. you watch with furrowed brows as he traces shapes into your skin with his fingertip, a frenzy of emotions resembling those of turbulence all in cerulean eyes. he’s torn— you can see it in the way his nose scrunches, as if he’s debating on whether he should voice out his thoughts or not. whether it’s worth debriefing— if this is his last shot or not.

with all this time passed, he’s still so easy to read.

“what is it?” you sigh, albeit irritated. the last thing you’d planned when you got rid of your friends in favour of having your ex over was this weird ass tension roaming. crazy sentence to speak— you know, but you were really hoping it’d be less talking involved and more sexing. it wasn’t that you were against conversing with him, but the way he was choosing to go about it was just so. . . awkward .

he senses the irritation laced in your question and immediately chuckles. his laugh sounds breathless, almost dry, but he shakes his head. his free hand swipes at his nose, a tic of his you noticed years ago whenever he’s feeling bashful or caught, and clears his throat.

“how’d you and sukuna happen?” he rips off the bandaid, and asks you the last question you wanted to hear. the tracing on your leg slows down, and your arms tighten a bit around your torso.

you let out a puff of air. if gojo notices your discomfort, he doesn’t mention it. in fact, he doesn’t pull the question back at all— he stares at you intensely, as if baring into your soul, as if the answer to his question will determine whether the boulder weighted on his shoulders will free him of restraint or not.

as if he still stood a chance or not.

“not much to say,” you shrug, as dismissive as possible. he doesn’t budge, the same intensity in his gaze and you roll your eyes, “honest to god. we broke up, he was there at the right time and shit happened.”

the words simmer into the stillness of the night, and he swipes his tongue over his lips pensively, “were y’all ever official?” he pushes, and you click your tongue against your teeth, offering him a deadpanned look. seriously, as if he didn’t know his own friend— in what world was sukuna anything worthy of official?

“god, no.” you shudder, and he nods again. “you know your friend.”

“i don’t,” gojo counters, momentarily wrapping his hand around your ankle. it fits as perfectly as it did all those years ago, where thumbs at your anklet— another prized possession he’d gotten you. your face heats in embarrassment, and he flicks his eyes to glance at you, a fleeting smirk on his lips, before staring back at the jewelry, “going after my ex girlfriend is not something i expected. i don’t know him at all.”

fair enough, you think to yourself. there has to be some lingering resentment towards you for the same reason. had the tables been turned and he’d gone after one of your closest friends, you would’ve cut him off from your life completely. you were being truthful— it wasn’t anything remotely serious with sukuna, not even close to how it’d been with gojo, but you could see it as a matter of principle. you’d already taken the initiative to break up with him first, and going after his homeboy?

god, you had questionable morals.

“it’s different with you,” he feeds in, as if he could read your thoughts. it was probably written all over your face, the scrunch in your brows never letting up. his index finger slides beneath the band of your anklet, the contrast of the silver shade lining perfectly against his complexion, “‘s hard to explain, but you broke up with me so you technically owe me no loyalty— besides, i get why you ended things. never blamed you.”

now that peaks your interest. he gets why you ended things with him? he never blamed you? you clear your throat, forcing the question out, “you do?”

“of course,” he shrugs naturally, as if it hadn’t taken you eons to conclude. as if it hadn’t broke you apart when you’d realized how unneeded you were, “i honestly expected it. you deserved better than what i was giving. you must’ve been lonely— work had always taken a big part of my time, and that left you behind in the dust.”

you’re waiting for the punchline. he continues, “i can’t lie to you— i was wishing you’d resort to cheating over breaking up. that way you’d still be mine, even if it was temporarily,” he chuckles, a soft shade of pink dusting over his cheekbones, as he sniffs, “corny, i know. but you didn’t deserve putting up with my bullshit, so you left. time is of the essence, and that was the one thing i never seemed to give you. you fell out of it— out of love, so. . . i’m sorry.”

words cannot seem to leave you. you’re left utterly speechless— that had been so far from the reason, the realization sitting bitterly at the pit of your stomach. anything, literally anything, would’ve been better than hearing him lie to you again.

“that. . .” you inhale a sharp breath, steadying yourself, “is nowhere near the reason why we broke up.”

he stops in his caress. you think he got whiplash from how fast his neck snaps, eyeing you incredulously. he genuinely seems so confused, and you hate it. to think he’d show up with some lame ass excuse, so far stretched from the truth of the matter, and expected you to believe that. to believe him.

he blinks slowly, “i don’t understand.”

you try to pull your leg away from his lap, feeling like he was stripping you bare of the last bit of dignity you had left, wanting to rip you open. he presses the weight of his hand lightly, urging you to stay near while simultaneously giving you the option to pull away. the ball was in your court yet again.

“wait— help me understand,” the pad of his thumb rolls over your ankle bone gently— far too intimately. your feet curl away, protectively, and his fingers stroke at the ball of your heel, “please. what drove you away? what was it i did?”

there’s a pang in your chest. does he really plan on keeping this up? right in your face? it was one thing wishing him well despite the obvious, but dragging it out even a year later was a bit much. inviting him over was starting to seem like a terrible idea.

“i fell out of love?” you parrot, unbelieving. “gojo— i’m not the one who fell out of anything. i gave you a way out, and you happily took it,” his face contorts into a deeper state of confusion. you huff, “i’m not blaming you for it or anything, but shit, don’t get up in here with lies to cover your ass.”

“lies?” he whispers, to himself, running his free fingers through tousled white locks. he stares at your anklet hardly, like the gift has all the answers he’s looking for. you don’t think he’s avoiding eye contact, but he seems so distraught, so out of the loop, that broadway ought to sign him to a new movie deal. what an actor.

“time is of the essence and you failed to give it?” you continue regardless, throat restricting as it burns in an emotion you’re far too familiar with. suddenly, you feel like you’re twenty five again, left to your own devices and thoughts in the emptiness of his apartment, dressed in your prettiest outfit and another failed date night. “i never gave a shit about that, i knew how much of a hardworking man you were. i took it to the chest— anything to keep you from leaving. you stopped loving me, gojo.”

his jaw falls slack, mouth gaping and you blink your lashes furiously to prevent tears from appearing. god, this was so humiliating, bearing your heart raw in front of your ex boyfriend, “y/n, i never—”

“spare me,” you scoff, mortified by the rush of emotions coursing through you. you take a deep breath in, calming yourself to avoid further explosive feelings, “this isn’t me saying i was the perfect girlfriend. i know i wasn’t— you know i wasn’t, and piling a spiralling partner on top of all the shit you were dealing with wasn’t an option. that’s fine,” it was fine. it didn’t matter, “doesn’t matter anymore. i broke up with you, you didn’t fight to stay, and we both moved on. shit happens.”

it hurt a lot. the sound of the door clicking shut, followed by the crack splitting in your chest. the run towards your bathroom, emptying your contents from both your stomach and heart. you were undeniably a mess, that period of time it took for you to recover. you would never voice it out loud, but you’d been praying he’d tell you just how wrong you were. how he needed you in his life. how you weren’t a burden to him. how he loved you enough to fight through it all.

he hadn’t.

there’s a soft hum in the silence. the sound of your clock ticking near the entrance door. the pounding of your heart against your rib cage. seconds turn into minutes of quietness, and it does no good to your mind. you’re focusing your gaze on the inanimate objects in your apartment, anything to dismiss the reality of the situation. your leg feels cold as his hand pulls away suddenly.

he rolls his tongue against his cheek. another tic of his— he’s formulating his word choice, carefully. you’d seen a ton of this before, though it usually followed a deep sigh and a you’re good baby, trust me. the more you’d see it, the more anxious you became. and christ, if that anxiety wasn’t forming right back.

it takes a while for him to speak, and every passing breath had your chest tightening. he runs his hand across his face, tiredly. when he pulls it away, there’s a melancholic smile on his face, “i think there’s a lot that needs to be addressed. jesus, i always knew you sucked at communicating but this is something else.”

you glare at him. he doesn’t mind it, continuing, “no, you weren’t the perfect girlfriend. but you were my girlfriend, and that’s all that mattered to me. you wanna talk about spiralling? nothing i’m not familiar with— you’re the only reason i didn’t let myself fall into that rabbit hole. you kept me going after graduation. i worked as hard as i did to make sure you wouldn’t have to lift a finger around me. that was the end goal— you were end goal.”

gagged is what you felt. nothing else pure shock. he doesn’t stop there. he isn’t merciful anymore.

“i know i didn’t go about it the right way,” a regretful puff of air is released, “i canceled on you often. our phone calls were shorter, our texts were vaguer and at some point i’d forgotten what you tasted like. but i never loved you any less. not once, even after we argued. not to say i’ve converted into those spiritual people, but you’re the closest thing to a soulmate i’ve experienced.”

shit, you weren’t tripping. he felt it too. fuck. the weight of his words made it impossible to steer him away. you want to intercept, to call him a liar and turn a blind ear at his confession, to shield yourself but how could you when every word he spoke broke the bricks you’d built down?

“i’m not an asshole— i could feel you slipping away. i did try my damned hardest to reel you back in, as you’d done with me. clearly that hadn’t worked how i was hoping it would,” a bitter laugh, or maybe a resentful one. towards you or himself? you wouldn’t know, “it’s because i loved you so much, i let you go. i knew i was losing you, and when you finally came to me, the right thing to do was agree. why keep you from reaching your fullest potential? you weren’t happy with me, trying to fight the inevitable was cruel.”

the inevitable. letting you go was the right choice to make because fighting the inevitable was cruel. he loved you so much he had to let you go because you deserved more than what he had to offer. you call bullshit— in what right did he have to make that choice for you? what right did you have to make that choice for him?

it’s too much at once. your eyes burn with a remorseful feeling, your heart aches in agony and your mind is clouded with thoughts. there your ex boyfriend sat, wide eyes still as blue as when he’d once been yours, presenting you his heart raw in cupped hands— and you still couldn’t find it in you to believe him fully. everything yet nothing made sense. vulnerability was a scary thing, and you weren’t ready to face it.

so, you kiss him.

his breath is taken out of his chest as you lean forward, sealing his mouth shut. you can’t take any more of his merciless words, and the only way to get your mind off it is by getting on it. he feels stiff against you, pupils dilating as you mould lips with his own. your hand travels to the back of his neck, sitting on your knees as you hold him still.

and with a faint lip smack, he pulls away ever so slightly, hands hovering awkwardly over your waist, his breath warm and fanning your cupid’s bow, “wait—”

“don’t wanna talk,” you interrupt, placing another chaste kiss on his lips. he tastes as good as the day you left him. and with another soft smack, your voice lowers, reduced to a whisper, “you gonna fuck me or not?”

he blinks and you stare back at him, full of conviction. a simple yes or no question— and he could gladly see himself out if his answer didn’t satisfy you. his hands finally rest on your waist, and you take it as an invitation to straddle over his hips. he eases your movements by aiding, lifting you just barely to sit on him. his hands fit just as they did all those times ago. a sour, bittersweet feeling— fingertips caressing the nakedness of your torso beneath your camisole.

your back arches as he finds your sensitive spots with quickness. he’d always been great at that, leaving trails of goosebumps past his teasing touches.

“you’re doing it again,” he mumbles against your lips, ever the hypocrite, fingers gripping at your waist like a vice. he rolls your hips over his own, reeling in the softness of your palms cupping at his face. you ignore him when he continues, still nibbling on his bottom lip the way he loves, “you can’t— mmh, avoid this forever.”

maybe not, but you sure as hell could right now. the tip of your noses bump into one another as you tilt your head, deepening the kiss. you want to rid your mind of these plaguing thoughts, ones that made you doubt everything you thought you knew. losing control was out of the question, so naturally you needed it back into your grasp.

sex was an easy way to do that.

“yes or no, gojo.” you give him one last chance, grinding your hips down on his awakening dick. you feel his bulge through his pair of sweats, the print so evident you wondered why he was trying to fight it. the sight alone had your panties dampening in your arousal, uncomfortably sticky against your loungewear.

he hums in between kisses, a false pretend of debating his options. his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your shorts and past your panties, fondling at the flesh that sat beneath. he could fake it all he wants, but fuck chivalry— he was turning to mush the more you sucked at his tongue, licking at the crevice of the roof of his mouth.

it’s when you sink your teeth into the flesh of pink lips, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to draw a moan from him, he comes to a conclusion. he nods his head, snaking his arms to wrap at your waist tighter as finally kisses you back.

“it’s always a yes.” for you. he doesn’t say it, doesn’t need to, but you hear it and dismiss it. no more lovey doveyness and time to get to the nitty gritty of shit— getting your back blown out. the very thought alone is enough to put a smile on your lips.

bingo.

your bedroom door hardly shuts before he pins you against it. he’s annoyingly big— tall in height and wide in weight. he towers over you comically, hands roaming at every inch of your body as he drinks you up. his lips seek yours desperately, sliding over your glossy ones with practice that suggests hints of comfort.

your arms loop at his neck, and his at your waist. his mouth hardly lets up of yours, mumbling a little jump, as you comply with ease. thighs trapping him in your hold, you then find yourself face to face with him as he lifts you, large palms cupping at your ass. you fit just as perfectly in his hands as you did years ago, flesh so fat he gropes it tenderly.

the walk from the door to your bed passes in the blink of an eye, a timeframe you find pointless to recall as you indulge in the taste of him through his tongue. his presence is so overwhelmingly powerful— every touch and caress at your body reducing your limbs to mush. you cling to him, either out of safety reasons or desire, tilting your head from side to side to deepen the lip-to-lip action.

when he gets to the edge of your bed, he lowers you until your toes reach the floor. due to the difference in height, your lips part, a thin string of saliva connecting from both your mouths as proof of your unison. the blue shade of his orbs darken with desire, eyelids lowering as he drinks up the sight of you— lips plump and swollen, slick in saliva, chest heaving from lack of oxygen.

he raises a hand from your waist to cup at your face, and you detest the way your lean into his touch. your cheek fits in his large palm, and he swipes a thumb at your bottom lip, collecting your shared spit onto the pad of his digit. as he smears the fluid further across your mouth, he prods his thumb a little further— testing out the waters, wanting to see if you’d cave into old habits.

naturally, you allow it, his thumb swallowed by your puckered lips. you roll your tongue over his finger and your eyes never leave his— hoping to convey the rush of emotions you feel through your sultry gaze. your core throbs in want, your stomach erupting in butterflies and your heart pounding unnecessarily. unspoken words you’re positive he understood, if the way he groans when your teeth sink lightly into his digit said anything.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles, popping his finger back out. it’s coated in saliva, and like the freak he is, pops it into his own mouth. once he’s had his fill, he removes his hand from his mouth, and lowers it to your fleshy waist, slipping past the waistband of your panties, “take these off— ‘m hungry, need a taste of that pussy.”

your cheeks nearly split from your excitement, and you comply to his order, gripping at the hem of your shorts to pull them down to your ankle. he assists you despite the previous demand, his own hands atop of yours, a warmth and sense of security so familiar. when your shorts reach past your mid thigh, you allow him to meet you halfway.

he pulls your shorts down to your ankles, lowering himself to a knee. his movements are agonizingly slow, basking in the sight of your thighs in contrast of the shade of your loungewear. he steadies a hand onto your calf, patting it lightly, and you lift your leg just barely, permitting him to slide the shorts off your ankle and tossing it aside.

when the item is discarded, he redirects his focus back to you. he pampers your skin in kisses— delicate but hungry, trails of moisture crawling back up at your inner thighs and shooting right to your core. he looked unexplainably sexy on his knees, littering your body in hushed praises, the tip of his nose nudging at your soft skin. you bit your lip in attempts to cease it from wobbling at the intimacy he was providing.

“god, you smell so good,” he speaks into you, hands snaking to the back of your thighs, pressing you forward into him. your panty covered cunt presents itself right before him, and he plants his nose right into your intimates, your body shuddering as his nose bumps into your clit deliciously. a shaky breath escapes you, and his hands travel upwards to play with your ass. “turn around, wanna eat it from the back.”

the words are taken from you when his hand slaps your ass encouragingly, releasing a mini squeal, “you’re still too freaked out.”

“mhm, something like that,” you don’t see it, as you’re occupied on spinning on your feet to plant your hands on your matters for stability, but you’re positive he’s smirking. your arch your back for him, wanting to properly present the meal he plans on devouring. your cunt oozes slick against your thong just thinking about how he’s going to do you in, “there’s that arch,” a hand slides in the curve of your lower back, before snapping the band of your thong. it recoils against your cheek and you jerk forward at the sting.

“oh? did that hurt?” he taunts, and as you’re about to protest, he does it yet again. the snap is intense but never painful, but the nerve he had to play around like your pussy wasn’t a few centimetres away from his face. you don’t acknowledge how your panties cling even tighter to your folds.

“fuck off,” you curse through gritted teeth, but your hips wiggle backwards in attempt to get him to hurry it up. as if now was any time to tease— you couldn’t stand it when he did it all those years ago, and your feelings haven’t changed since, “get on with it. . . the fuck?”

you hear him sigh, almost disappointedly, and it only aggravates you further. your brows furrow in annoyance and you think you feel a vein tick at your temple.

“still so disrespectful,” gojo tuts, rubbing at your booty tenderly. so he wasn’t exactly wrong, but how was he expecting you to react when he’d just said he was going to eat you out, and proceeds to do anything but that? of course there’s going to be a little pout on your lips, “we gotta work on that attitude of yours.”

your face twists into a look of further aggravation, and you tilt your head back, readying whatever other bratty objections you had— though you’re ultimately interrupted by a sharp sting that spreads across your ass.

the strike of his palm against your cheek sprawls into an intense heat, the pain oddly pleasurable, and the moan that rips out of your chest is impossible to suppress. your eyes nearly jump out of their sockets at the audacity, and right as you’re about to complain, he does it again. and again.

“o-okay, shit!” you attempt to voice out, but he’s relentless, delivering blow after blow onto the same ground. there’s a curve in his palm, and it amplified the sound across the room. despite your protests, you can’t deny every jolt of pain rushes to your clit. you’re positive he knows you’re enjoying this, “gojo— fuck, okayyy!”

to your pleasure, he eases the slaps, opting to smoothen his hand flat across the reddened flesh. he hums pensively, the heat of your skin radiating against his palm in a way that forces a smile on his lips, “ ‘okay?’ what do you mean by that, baby?”

you clench your teeth at his faux ignorance. you know exactly what he wants from you, and you’re not sure if you’re able to give it to him as you are. an apology— he wants you to apologize, that bastard. your left cheek stings like a bitch, even with his now gentle touches, and your core is begging you to cooperate with him, in order for that attention it was neglected of. he is such a dickhead— putting you in a predicament like this one.

you swallow the last bit of dignity you hold, a constant reminder in the back of your mind that this was for the greater good— for the sake of your pussy. with a pained sigh, you tilt your head backwards to meet his playful gaze that stares back at you, right below the plump of your ass, and you muster the cutest look you can give.

doe eyes paired with a little pout, “‘m sorry. . . for the attitude,” you’re not sorry at all, but you desperately want your cunt in his mouth, so you do what you have to do, “can you eat it now? please?”

he flashes you a million dollar smile, all thirty twos on full display, and it takes every ounce of willpower in you not to roll your eyes right then and there. he was so full of shit, his eyes might as well brown. but still, you knew he got off on this kind of thing, and when he presses a quick kiss at the print of your lips, he replies, “of course, sweet girl— only because you asked so nicely.”

there’s no further need to speak, as you feel your thong being pushed to the side, followed by a cold breeze hitting your bare cunt, meshed with warm breathe as he feasts .

gojo eats you out like he has something to prove, and you know what— maybe he does. to prevent you from straying from him, he grounds you with two firm hands gripping at your ass. he spreads the flesh apart, his tongue lapping at your slick greedily. you can’t tell who’s moans are louder— yours or his, the man so engaged in sucking at your clit, nibbling on the bundle of nerves with practiced ease. you hold onto the sheets on your bed with dear life, thighs trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up.

“fuck, don’t stop,” you whine, pushing your hips further back, your mind overcame with utter greediness for more of that insatiable pleasure. you might as well have swallowed him whole into you, just as he’s swallowing you whole into him, his tongue diving deep past your hole and into your folds. he flicks his tongue expertly, licking at every crevice and nook of your cave, his jaw working overtime as his bottom lip never lets up at your clit.

your entire pussy is consumed by him, no area going neglected— drool slips past his mouth and spills onto your floor. a familiar heat licks at the pit of your stomach, a telltale that your dam is bound to burst anytime soon. he remedies your ache with another painful spank at your ass, groaning into your pussy when you clamp down on his tongue.

he was so fucking nasty— fucking into you with his tongue like he needed this more than you did. he makes out with your cunt, like he was a starving man on death row. at a particular cruel angle of his tongue fucking, your body would react with an all consuming tremble, fingers clawing at your duvets, your lungs releasing pathetic mewls. and the further you pushed back into his merciless mouth, the closer his nose nudged at your puckered forbidden hole.

he pulls away with a gasp, subbing his mouth out for his fingers, the pads of three fingers rubbing messily at your sloppy lips. the sound it creates is downright filthy, so painfully loud that it damn near drowns out your own moans.

“pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he spits a wad of saliva at your already soaked cunt, further amplifying the squelching sounds. he drags his fingers down to your clit, pinching at the bud with enough pressure to have your knees buckling, before sliding back upwards to your clenching hole. he slides into your entrance, index and middle fingers twisting in with ease, “bet she missed me, hm?”

“y-yes!” you nod mindlessly, your high creeping up on you as he works himself into you. taking six inches of fingers twice was a task in itself— the average length of a man’s dick serving purpose as fingering was just downright disrespectful. his knuckles poke at your silky walls, stretching you out to the best of his abilities, “shit— oh fuck, ‘m gonna cum!”

to your statement, he latches his lips back to your neglected clit, sucking on the bud as if he were intentionally trying to milk you dry. he hums at your taste, the vibrations shooting right up your alley and into the knot tightening in your guts— and when he curls his fingers upwards, at that spot that has stars dancing beneath your eyelids, the dam breaks. that knot stood no chance.

“oh goddd,” you cry out, spraying your release all over. it dribbles out your pussy and past the lower half of his face, to which his jaw widens as his mouth gapes— greedily aiming to slurp at your juices while simultaneously flicking your bean. the stimulation has your brain going dumb, as you fall flat onto your bed, drool collecting at the corner of your mouth and staining your sheets damp.

he lets you ride out the euphoric bliss, the movements of his fingers and the lapping of his tongue slowing down the more your body reacted to the overstimulation. when he deems you well spent, he lets up, slipping his fingers out and popping them back in his mouth, swirling your taste across his pallets, “as sweet as ever,” rising back to his full height.

you haven’t came that hard in a while, limbs reduced to nothing as you merge into one with your bed. your legs are still trembling, and your chest heaves as you exhale deep breaths. letting your eyelids close shut, you take the time to regroup yourself from that mind shattering orgasm. who the fuck had he been fucking that forced him to keep this skill? granted, you had no right to complain but holy shit, he was no fucking noob.

you feel the weight of his body press on top of you, a well-built chest meeting your moist back. it doesn’t take much to realize he’s hovering over you. his lips litter kisses at the column of your neck, moving up to the shell of your ear, leaving a trail of goosebumps after each embrace, “you tappin’ out already?” gojo snickers at your shell of a body, and you kiss your teeth at his typical mockery, “what happened to my champ while i was gone?”

“fuck off,” you pout, a little embarrassed by the fact that you really were retired from the game. sure, you were getting dicked down real good by your previous partner (question mark), but it never had you as exhausted as you currently were. there was absolutely nothing gojo satoru couldn’t do, and that ticked you off to no end, “nobody said shit about tappin’ out.”

“hm. . .” he hums, nuzzling his nose into your jugular, his hips grinding into the cleft of your ass. it’s impossible to ignore the bulge poking into you, and you doubt he was trying to hide it regardless, his hips rolling against the plushness of your behind, “guess sukuna didn’t do as good of job as he should’ve.”

that has your eyelids opening right back up. talk about an awkward situation— bringing up you and your ex’s (question mark) sex life while having sex with your other ex was a double edged predicament in itself. had you agreed, which lowkey wasn’t entirely wrong, you’d be stroking the fuck out of gojo’s ego and be disrespecting sukuna. but had you disagreed, you could end up on gojo’s wrong side and fumble an entire night worth of dicking.

so, once more, you take the easy way out, at the expense of inflating the white haired man’s ego, much to your dismay, “think you can do better?”

he stays silent for a while. in what you assume is him coming up with an answer to your question, his kisses travel to the dead centre of your shoulder blades, wet and open mouthed, as they crawl lower down your spine. with every kiss, your body caves into a state of relaxation, as if he was undoing every stress clouding at your hazed mind with his mouth alone.

he lands at the middle of your back, before he pulls away abruptly. and just as soon as he started, he was finished— removing himself off your body entirely. panic settles quickly in your stomach, as you turn your head around to see what he was up to. had you unintentionally hurt his feelings? damn, and here you were enjoying the body worship.

“what are you—” your words are cut off as his hands cup at your waist. he slides you back towards the edge of the bed, your feet planted on the floor once more. you feel some residue of your previous orgasm beneath your heels, eugh. you don’t have much time to spend thinking about how gross it feels when a hand holds your shoulders, and lifts you right back up.

your brows jump to your hairline in surprise at the sudden manhandling, though you can’t deny you found just a bit sexy. with his chest pressed into your back once more, you can feel his heartbeat thudding at the blade of your left shoulder, the organ withholding a steady rhythm— the tempo of a lullaby you’d once been accustomed to. and then big arms wrap around your frame, and holds you.

you hate the way your body folds so easily to his touch. it’s been an entire year, and despite your mind shouting at you for the intimacy you’re allowing to gallop right back into your life, your heart craves it. the sense of security his embrace offers you alone makes the least of sense, but you blindly lean into him, allowing yourself to be deluded for the time being. he won’t be yours as soon as this is over, so you might as well take the most advantage of the situation.

it takes a minute for either of you to speak. here you stood— half naked and legs sore, but still happily in his arms. his cologne is still as rich and dominating as it’d been all those times ago. he breaks the silence first, his chin resting above your shoulder, as he mumbles, “you really hurt my feelings, you know.”

to some degree, you know you did. about what exactly? you weren’t sure, but still, you offer him what you believe he wants, the realization leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, “i’m sorry.”

“‘s all good,” he kisses your cheek so tenderly that your neck cranes to the side to meet his gaze. gojo had always been so readable when it came to emotions, as he always wore his heart on his sleeve, but even with all the knowledge you knew about, you weren’t prepared for the look in his eyes. raw, unfiltered emotions. you only notice the close proximity between you both when your noses bump into one another. he shoots you a warm smile, “could never be upset with you. you hold that power over me.”

it’s you who kisses him first, and he returns the favour with more intensity. it’s an awkward positioning for your neck, but you don’t let up regardless of the ache in your joints. his mouth stays on yours as if you were his lifeline, tongues sloshing one over the other, brushing your lips together so gingerly.

in the midst of his tongue down your throat, he slips a hand in between your thighs, cupping at your abandoned pussy. the casual brush of his fingers at your core sent a breathy whine from your throat right into his mouth, and it only motivated him to work harder, rubbing slow patterns into your throbbing clit. your hips chase the feeling, riding the wave of his fingers.

he pulls away from your mouth, just barely, mumbling against your kiss bitten lips, “one of these days you’re gonna let me finish speaking,” followed by a knowing smile. sure, it could be seen as a flaw, but it was the only way you could protect yourself while keeping him within arm’s reach. never ready to have him but never prepared to let him go, “we can do that later— gotta blow your back out first.”

you couldn’t agree more.

it all happens so quickly— he retrieves his hand from between your thighs, having collected your juices at his fingertips, before lubricating his dick. he pumps at the length leisurely, his bottom lip tugged by his top row of teeth, and the groans he lets out are enough to have you squeezing your thighs eagerly, your cunt aching and ready to go. in the midst of your eagerness, you slip your hand behind you and catch his twitching cock, working your wrist right above his own, jerking him off.

a deep groan grumbles from his chest, and he instantly stops your hand from moving any further. you frown at his ceasing, but when you tilt your head to voice out your confusion, he offers a sheepish smile, “don’t wanna cum too soon,” ever the minute man, he was.

though, you soon find yourself regretting your own thoughts the very instant you feel the tip of his dick pushing past your entrance.

there’s a blended harmony of both your moans that bounces off the walls. his fingers dig deep into the flesh of your hips, holding onto you so tightly you’re positive you’ll bruise, and you clamp down on his intruding dick so tightly you’re positive you never want to let him go. the initial stretch is a feeling you’ll never get used to, but the sensation is all but unwanted.

“fuckkk, y/n,” he moans right into your ear, his voice so full of want, you can’t help but understand exactly where he’s coming from. he pulls his hips back, almost entirely, though his tip stays inside. it takes him a second to regroup, mumbling incoherent words under his breath, before he plunges back into your cunt.

and from that point on, it’s wraps. he fucks into you like a madman— as if he’d been punishing you for your crimes. punishing you for sleeping with another man. punishing you for leaving him a year and a half ago. punishing you for punishing him. his pace is ruthless— hips meeting your ass as fast as he’d pull out, pounding into your little hole to mould it into the shape of him.

he’s thick, this time on perverted shit.

you’re so painfully full of him, and despite your arms stretched outwards to grip at the sheets that had suffered more than enough of your abuse on them, your walls never let go of him. you don’t want him to pull out ever, utterly obsessed with the rough pace he set from the jump. it feels impossible keeping the curve of your back when the tip of his length repetitively attacks at your golden spots.

“ohmygoddd,” you words come out slurry, head lolling forward uselessly. if he kept fucking you like this, you weren’t going to let him leave again. stuck in an endless loop of bliss, with every thrust into your folds, his balls would slap at your clit and drive you insane, “y’re d-doing me s’gooddd,”

“yeah?” he eggs on, his voice as breathless as you’d been, though his pacing would never suggest so. there’s a hypnotic recoil of your ass bouncing back onto his pelvis that indulges him into disrupting it, delivering a new spank at your cheeks. you cry out at the feeling, and he strikes again, hips never letting up, “tell me more baby.”

you rise at your tip toes when you feel yourself sinking, legs giving out yet again. you hold yourself up at your elbows, a newfound confidence pushing your hips back to match his pace. when he heaves out a loud moan, you’re encouraged to keep going. the melody of your skins slapping against each other echoes into the stillness of the night, arching your back the further he plunges into your guts. you’re so turned on, the evidence creaming around the perimeter of his cock, easing the slides of his dick inside of you.

“toruuu,” you whine, too fucked out to notice your first mistake— calling him by his favorite nickname. at that given moment, you couldn’t care any less, the intense heat in your guts growing once more. the curve of his dick reaches spots you don’t think anybody could reach, almost as if he was made entirely for you, “you’re so big— can feel you, nghhh, everywhere!”

“that’s cause i am everywhere,” you think you can hear him smirking behind you. though, he has every right to feel entitled, with how much of a mess he’s reduced you to. he rolls his hips deep, a firm bulge forming into your tummy. as if he’s got a sixth sense or eye, he leans forward to rest his chest against your back— your eyes rolling back from the new angle. he slides a hand beneath your stomach and presses at the bulge hard. you can’t help the squeal you let out, “that’s me right there.”

you nod your head feverishly, the applied pressure on your stomach pushing his cock right at your cervix. oh god, he was going to kill you. what a wonderful way to go— all judgements clouded in favour of an eight inched dick penetrating your walls, “‘s all yours— mmh, always been.”

and that’d been your final mistake.

because the chuckle he lets out right into your ear is dark. the sounds shoot right up to your spine, shivers crawling up your back deliciously. he might as well be back stabbing you with how his cock plunged so sloppily out of your gaping cunt, “you always knew how to, fuck, pillowtalk,” he pants into your neck, his additional weight onto your shaking frame nothing short on welcoming. the hand pressing into your stomach lowers to your clit, and pinches meanly at the bud, “you know i’d, mmh, give you the world if you asked— my smart girl, shit.”

he’s so cruel, talking to you so lovingly despite it all. you tighten your eyes, in poor attempts to ignore the tenderness of the words fleeting his lips and focus instead on the stretch of your cunt down his dick. you feel yourself creaming on him, further proof of both your unison through his diabolical thrusts. he pinned you into place like this— unable to do anything but take what he gave you gratefully.

at a particular stroke at your abused golden spot, your body releases another tremor of shudders. it overtakes you from head to toe, a moan so ripe escaping your lips as you claw at ruined sheets. gojo works into aiming at that spot over and over again, each thrust more intense than the previous one. the change of his pace, slowing for a minute, draws you near the end of the line quicker than you’d anticipated.

“oh?” he grunts playfully, swaying his hips back and forth into your poor pussy. mercy is nowhere to be found, however, “you like it when i fuck you like this?” another agonizingly beautiful thrust at the same place, you can’t help but reward him with a cry. he’s fucking you into the damn mattress, and he has the balls to ask this question knowing the answer. still, you nod your head mutely, tears collecting at your lash line, and he nips at the skin on your jaw, “yeahhh you do.”

god, you do.

and suddenly, you can’t bring yourself to remember why you’d ever let go of dick this good. the kind that would have you taking the rubber off and considering finishing inside. the kind that had you babbling apologies for having done absolutely nothing wrong. the kind that made you begin to believe his careless whispers, empty promises to work things out.

in the midst of your delusions, he pulls you both back up from the bed, standing once again. at this new position, he reaches impossibly further into you, the difference in your heights making up for the inches he’s dug into you. his fingers dig in the column of your throat, the weight of his hand wrapped tightly at your neck. he’s everywhere at once, but simultaneously no where to be found. while you can feel his tip prodding at your most sensitive spot, you don’t feel the overwhelming force of love he once bore with open arms for you.

or was it you were feigning you don’t? because as he works himself back into you, at a pace so tender yet cruel, the line of boundaries you’d once set has been entirely deterred. a force so overwhelming, just like his entire being, bringing you right back to him as if you’d never left— nevermind the fact your thighs could barely support themselves, quaking pathetically. it was getting too much— everything was a lot.

“nahhh. . . don’t start running now.” you didn’t realize you were. the sheets are crumpled in your tight hold, while your other hand lightly pushes at his lower abdomen. you were a trooper, but there was only so much pleasurable torture you could handle. naturally, he pins your wrist at your spine to maintain his ruthless pace, and with another gentle yet cruelly empty promise, he coos, “not when i’ve just gotten you back.”

how the fuck did you get yourself in this mess?

oh right. . . tinder. you had a bone to pick with the ceo of that app right after you come back to your senses.

“i— i can’t,” you fumble at your words, the lack of oxygen catching up to you. you’re bound to his mercy— hands tied, breath nearly restricted, pussy obliterated, and yet, there’s nowhere else you’d want to be. the pressure on your throat lolls your head backwards, chin facing the ceiling as your eyes fall onto snowy lashes, “gonna cum again— oh fuckfuckfuck,”

and despite his brutality, he shoots you a sweet smile, the contrast in his words versus his actions grand, “right behind you, baby.”

you cum, and hard . much harder than you had before. you gush your fluids down his piercing cock, your folds squeezing him tight as you release. you think your mind blanks for a minute, an orgasm so powerful, you fear your eyes would stay stuck at the back of your skull. you shiver in his embrace, the insatiable desire racking your body from top to bottom.

when he pulls out, you fall flat yet again onto your stomach, face first. you assume you look like a puddle of nothingness, your limbs spent from the overexhaustion. but still, you find yourself in a similar position to prior, as gojo leans over your body, a hand holding him up as the other works on his jerking him cum out. smart move, not finishing inside, though a weird feeling of disappointment sits in your stomach, swapping the fiery heat from your orgasm.

he sinks his teeth into your shoulders as you wince, emptying himself right onto your lower back. it runs hot and smooth into the dimples of your back, that you can’t help but stretch your limp arm towards the mess to collect the residue on your fingers. you pop them into your mouth, his taste still so familiar as he plops right at your side, face up.

there’s a thick silence that fills the sex scented room. you wonder what is going through his brain now that the lust demon that was half his ego had been taken care of. was he on the same page as you were? had he realized just how messy this could turn out? he’s too quiet for a man of his nature— and that terrified you shitless. no matter the outcome, you’re ready to kick him out. post nut clarity was a scary thing— it revealed the violent truth of how tempting the flesh could be, even with consequences on the line.

you want to beat him to it. the last thing you need on your consciousness is your ex boyfriend who’d you invited into your home a year after you broke up with him, leaving you. he seemed petty enough to do the eye for an eye shtick— it wasn’t too out of character for him.

with a heavy heart and sigh, you turn your head to the side where he lays comfortably. the words want to die in your throat, but your urge them out, the sooner the better, “you should—”

“no.” he interrupts, followed by a yawn.

you frown at that, brows scrunching as you insist that yet again, “you need to—”

“nah.” gojo cuts you off yet again, rolling onto his side. his dick falls limp onto your bed, and you don’t think about the mess it’s making. to be fair, you’d done far worse. and it was proven difficult to care about that mess when he brought a finger to play with your loose hairs, cerulean eyes zeroing in on them, “i’m tired. let’s get you cleaned up and go to bed.”

“you’re not listening to me.” you click your tongue, a little desperate to have him hear you. you’re scared to keep him around longer, because you know you’ll grow attached again and that already ended terribly once, and took you forever and a half to get over. he has to leave and right now, “you have to go.”

gojo hums at that. he stops the twirling of your hair, rather reluctantly, and finally meets your sharp gaze. he still looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, “why?”

you narrow your eyes, “you know why,” you shouldn’t have to explain why two exes cozying up after indulging into each other was a bad idea. common sense, you figured, but was it common sense to have him over in the first place? a flurry of various emotions coursing over you laced with exhaustion had you overthinking like a motherfucker, “this was a bad idea.”

he trails his finger along the slope of your clenched jaw, and you don’t think about the fact it immediately relaxed at his touch. the longer he traced your skin, the longer he kept looking at you like that, you were wavering in your own logic. you’d both gotten what you wanted in the first place, so why was it he was still here? the rational decision would be to pretend this never happened and part ways again, but why was the thought of him locking the door behind him once again at your expense making you feel sick to your stomach?

when his finger lands at your pouty lips, he taps his index finger twice against the flesh. naturally, your pout deepens. his eyes flick from your mouth to your shying gaze, and his index swaps for his thumb. he runs the pad of his finger across the reddened surface, and his voice falls a few octaves lower, hushed for nobody else but you to hear, “you don’t want me to leave.”

you don’t.

he takes your silence as acceptance, and plants a soft kiss to your lips. it’s enough to rid your mind of its plaguing doubts in the meanwhile. and when his hand slides to cup at the back of your neck, ultimately deepening it, you can’t find it in you to care about the consequences for the time being. not when he was swallowing you whole like he was the one terrified to feel you slip from his fingers. you melt into him far too easily.

well. . . that was something you’d deal with in the morning.

tinder: 1, you: 0.

now can y’all stop calling me a deadbeat 🙎‍♂️

#rena☆star.#jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo thirst #jjk gojo #gojo satoru

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ujuro · 2 months ago

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I am three months behind on kpop releases so I keep wanting to talk about all of the “new” things only to realize that everything is old news by now cause this is how fast kpop moves 💀

#like if I say the ‘new’ txt people will be like what they put out another album? no im just lazy #actually I didn’t want to slog through a bunch of male soloists I didn’t care about #which is my biggest problem with keeping up with kpop nowadays #but actually the recent ones have been better than I expected so. oops. sorry #Minho I love you forever my bias but I really didn’t expect your solo album to be decent I apologize #words of mine #this isn’t taking that long though cause kpop is DEAD from award season to like march

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hellokittyish · 4 months ago

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★ thinking about suguru being your academic rival, the unspoken competition between you beginning on the very first day of college when the advanced calculus professor handed out a brain teaser to help everyone settle in, only for you and suguru to be the only students able to solve it. the problem?

he finished it a second before you did.

and from then on, the two of you would compare everything: average GPA score, exam grades, pop quiz results, who could make the other cum quicker — oh yeah… how could you forget to mention the part where somewhere along the way, the tension between you managed to leak from the classroom into the bedroom. oops.

so that’s how you find yourself in your current position of trying to take suguru down your throat while he simultaneously attempts to ruin your focus by flicking the tip of his annoyingly talented tongue over your swollen clit.

“aww, is someone struggling?” he purrs, violet eyes boring into the back of your head while he continues his languid licks through your embarrassingly wet folds. “y’know… this could all be over right now if you just admit that you can’t keep up with me.”

“s-shut up,” you grumble weakly, briefly pulling off of his cock to speak with a lewd string of saliva connecting your heaving lips to the thick head. “i can keep up just fine.”

“oh, really?” he drawls, tone dripping with condescension while he trails a slender finger down the curve of your spine, causing your body to arch instinctively and sink down even further onto his mouth in response. “is that why you’re giving me a blowjob so bad that i’d think it was your first time if i didn’t know any better, hm?”

instead of using your mouth to shoot back another sharp retort; you decide to put it to better use by inhaling a deep, steadying breath and lowering it down on suguru’s length once again, taking him right to the base and fighting the urge to gag as his fat tip rubs against the back of your throat.

“s-shit,” he hisses through clenched teeth, his own ministrations forgotten entirely as his hips involuntarily buck upwards into your mouth. “if you don’t stop that i’m g-gonna fuckin’ cum.”

determined to make him lose control before you do, you start to bob your head up and down on his girth as fast as you can. but just when you begin to let yourself believe that you’re guaranteed to win this round, he pulls out one last trick from up his sleeve.

he bites your clit, sharp canines grazing the sensitive bud in a way that causes your throat to clamp down on his cock and your vision to flash white for a few long moments as your climax suddenly washes over you — but he’s faring no better either, a low groan spilling from his lips as thick ropes of his cum spurt straight down your throat.

“huh. guess we can call this round a tie then,” suguru hums in a frustratingly casual manner, pushing some stray raven hairs back from his forehead and flashing you a cat-like smile as you peer at him dazedly over your shoulder. “what do you say we make it the best of out of three tonight, hm?”

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ephemii · 6 months ago

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𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚! 📸✨

Grace finally has a Magicam account, and what better use for it than immortalizing their friendships?

.𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ.

🦐 yuur_grace

❤️ 630 🗨️ 43 🔄 22

𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 I finally made an account!! First pic, tea party preparations with housewarden of Heartslabyul! 🌹🫖

❤️ 𝗮𝗰𝗲_𝗼𝗳𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 LMAO? HE'S SUCH A PRUDE LOLL

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬♠️ 𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗱𝗲_𝗱𝗲𝘂𝗰𝗲 @ace_ofhearts dude you're aware that housewarden Rosehearts owns a magicam account right?

♦️ 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗱_𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱 totes adorbs!! but kinda bummed u didn't pick me for such a cute pic idea... (ㅠ‸ㅠ)

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 @diamond_mind Oh I'm so sorry!! I got so busy with preparations that it slipped my mind u_u; I'll save you a spot next time, promise!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎.𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

🦐 yuur_grace

❤️ 450.2k 🗨️ 130.1k 🔄 130k

𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 ....okay so this MIGHT turn into a series. I pray to the Seven that Leona isn't active on magicam or else I'm migrating (he looks so peaceful tho, doesn't he?!)

🐺 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗹__ Grace.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 @jackhowl__ Jack...... 5 replies

🐆 𝗿𝘂𝗴𝗴_𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗰𝗵𝗶𝟯𝟵𝟳 you owe me a deluxe cutlet sandwich now btw 😇

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 I don't recall that being on our TOA?? 1 replies

🐰 𝘀𝗮𝘃𝗮𝗻𝗮_𝗻𝗽𝗰 ????? LEONA KINGSCHOLAR???? ISN'T THAT THE PREFECT WHAT. 1435 replies

🦁 𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗺_𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝟮𝟱𝟲𝟯𝟴𝟮𝟵𝟮𝟱𝟮 Sevens you narrow minded idiot.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬ 🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 is that literally fucking leona kingscholar 34572 replies

➻oh, except.... maybe they forgot one little detail...

🦐 yuur_grace

❤️ 23.2k 🗨️ 2.3k 🔄 442

𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 Decided to pay our octobuddy a little visit at the @mostrolounge this afternoon 🐙🍹What a face! (also, wow where did all of you come from?? Was Leona's sleeping visage that baffling of a prospect? ùᴗu,, actually, I'm now realizing that I hadn't even set this account to private...oops.)

🐬 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁𝘀.𝗮.𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗮𝘆 ahahah!! oh man look at his face! little shrimpy's got guts~

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 thanks for being the cameraman buddy ùᴗu ͙͘͡★ 7 replies

❤️ 𝗮𝗰𝗲_𝗼𝗳𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 I'm surprised you didn't get ptsd just from walking into that room LMAO

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 @ace_ofhearts hm okay how about you join me next time

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬❤️ 𝗮𝗰𝗲_𝗼𝗳𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 @yuur_grace no thank you <3

🐬 𝗷𝗮𝗱𝗲.𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗰𝗵. hahah. how swift. perhaps i may join you one day to capture such riveting images. 3 replies

🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 ok no I'm actually so invested we can't just move on from the fact that this guy showed up all of a sudden and just KNOWS Leona kingscholar personally?!?? 200 replies

🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲

❤️ 530.5k 🗨️ 221k 🔄 138k

𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 Another face cradled! And a dear friend hugged! Had a blast at this wonderful get-together in Scarabia dorm ☀️🏮🎇 I think I'm ready to sleep for a week though hahaha ^^;

☀️ 𝗸𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗺✪ I'm so glad you came! I don't think I've had that much fun with friends in a while! You're always welcome whenever you feel like visiting 😊✨

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬ 🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 @kalimalasim always!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬ 🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME 1240 replies

🐍 𝗷𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹_𝘃 There's still some leftovers if you'd like to take some for Grim. Or yourself, really. 2 replies

🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 oh okay so there's even MORE. why not. SURE. 212 replies

🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲

❤️ 970.6k 🗨️ 596.3k 🔄 502k

𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 Nothing better than a long evening spent with the beauty queen himself @vilshoenheit. And look, he reciprocated! How sweet~ 💜✨ A wonderful idol, an even better friend.

👑 𝘃𝗶𝗹𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗲𝗻𝗵𝗲𝗶𝘁✪ How precious. Do take good care of that manicure.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬👑 𝘃𝗶𝗹𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗲𝗻𝗵𝗲𝗶𝘁 Wait, Grace, is this a private post?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 will do! 🤍 2304 replies

🍎 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗹_𝗳𝗲𝗹𝗺𝗶𝗲𝗿 man you're better than me, i can't stand a second doin any a this balderdash

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 your loss,, it's sooo relaxing 🙂‍↕️

🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 YOU GUYS I CANT COPE ARE YOU KIDDING MEEEEEEE 784 replies

🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 is this guy some sorta undercover cop or sum?? how's he got all these crazy ass ties??

🏹 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗵𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗸 oh, là là... quelle beauté, the calm before the storm~

🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲

❤️ 60.3k 🗨️ 43.4k 🔄 22.5k

𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 Seems like I've been graced with this nice little picture from @0r1h0_shr0ud2 during a visit to Idia's dorm! No face hold unfortunately, but it's quite cute!🩵🤍 Very rare, it seems Idia has yet to realize the photo being taken ^o^. Peep the adorable little PreMo gacha figure I got for him...? 👀

🩵 𝟬𝗿𝟭𝗵𝟬_𝘀𝗵𝗿𝟬𝘂𝗱𝟮 I was so happy that you decided to stay and keep my brother company, Grace Alexander-san. Idia doesn't show it, but you really made his day!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 @0r1h0_shr0ud2 awww! I'm always happy to spend time with you both! 🤍 3 replies

💙 𝗴𝗹𝟬𝟬𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗮𝗶 woah when was this?! you can't just spring such a rare event out of nowhere! delete, delete!!! 5 replies

♦️ 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗱_𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱 oh my Seven!! you both look so dope! truly inspiring— and can we talk about how *adorbs* you look with that biscuit hanging from ur mouth?? (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 @diamond_mind brothaaaa keep this up and you'll be fighting off rumors for days LOL ùᴗu ahuahu

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬❤️ 𝗮𝗰𝗲_𝗼𝗳𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 @yuur_grace OH U WANNA HEAR ABOUT RUMORS??? HAHAH

🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 Am I tweaking or is that like. *The* Idia Shroud from the family Shroud part of the largest technological pioneers in Twisted Wonderland. Or am I insane.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 this HAS to be a social experiment atp?? What in the world is this guy's power??? 467 replies

🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲

❤️ 2.1m 🗨️ 740.3k 🔄 680k

𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 it felt almost special, leaving my vest off. Maybe it was the winter breeze. Tsunotaro helped me with his cape, though, despite my insistence. What a sweet personality! 💚🐉 We took a long walk through an abandoned woods, found some gorgeous gargoyles. To end my little series, I asked to hold him as well. He doesn't own a magicam account so I can't tag him... But at least he can keep the pictures :) Hurray! It ends! 🤍✨

🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 THERE IS NOOOOO FUCKING WAY I REFUSE NO NO ABSOLUTELY NO WAY THIS IS AN EVIL PRANK WHAT WHAT WHATTTTATSYSYTHJDHJ WHO IS THIS GUYYYYYY 1204 replies

🌐 𝘁𝘄𝘀𝘁𝗻𝗽𝗰 OH YES DROP THE BOMB ON US WHY NOT. OKAY. THREE OTHER CELEBS WEREN'T ENOUGH I GUESS. 762 replies

🦇 𝘃𝗮𝗻𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗲𝗲 Grace, you must know I have never been so entertained in my long life. Why, Malleus himself sits beside me and stares down at the screen in bafflement!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 @vanrougee ???? Explain?? ToT

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬♦️ 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗱_𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱 @yuur_grace you sweet summer child 😭✋

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎¬ 🐊 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴.𝘇𝗶𝗴𝗯𝗼𝗹𝘁 @yuur_grace YOU ARE ENTIRELY UNCONNIVING. YOU PLACE MALLEUS UNDER INTENSE SCRUTINY FROM THE MASSES AS WELL AS LADY MALEFICIA! YOU SHOULD BE MORE MINDFUL, HUMAN!!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ¬🦐 𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗿_𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗲 OH my god.

HEHEHE I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS AS MUCH AS I DID THIS WAS SO EXHAUSTING BUT SO FUN TO MAKE !!! 🩷🤍🩷✨✨ Also pls don't look too hard at the numbers ik a lot of them are wrong I'm sleep deprived and high on 3 monster cans 🤍

14K notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 4 months ago

Text

A Royal Surprise

Max Verstappen x Princess of Wales!Reader

Summary: in which Max 1) forgot to tell his team that he has a girlfriend and 2) forgot to tell his team that the girlfriend in question is the future Queen of England … oops?

One of Red Bull Racing’s PR officers, Leslie, sits in the back of the conference room, her pen poised over her notepad as she listens to the team debrief. It’s a typical Thursday morning, with engineers and drivers discussing the upcoming race weekend. Leslie’s eyes flit between Max Verstappen and his teammate as they offer their insights on car performance and track conditions.

“The balance felt off in turn three during the sim,” Max says, leaning back in his chair. “We might need to adjust the downforce.”

Leslie jots this down, already planning how to phrase it for the press conference later that afternoon. Just another normal day at Red Bull Racing, she thinks.

But then, Max casually adds, “Oh, and by the way, you might see some extra security around this weekend. My girlfriend’s coming to watch the race.”

Leslie’s pen stills. There’s something in Max’s tone that makes her look up sharply.

“Girlfriend?” Christian Horner raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone seriously.”

Max shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, it’s been a few months now. We’ve been keeping it quiet.”

Leslie leans forward, her PR senses tingling. “Anyone we know?” She asks, trying to keep her voice casual.

Max’s grin widens. “You could say that. It’s Y/N.”

The room falls silent. Leslie blinks, sure she must have misheard. “I’m sorry, did you say Y/N? As in ...”

“The Princess of Wales, yeah,” Max confirms, as if he’s just mentioned dating a local girl from down the street.

Leslie’s notepad slips from her fingers, clattering to the floor. The sound seems to break the spell of silence that’s fallen over the room.

“Max,” Christian says slowly, “are you telling us that you’re dating the future Queen of England?”

Max nods, still looking far too relaxed for someone who’s just dropped a bombshell of international proportions. “That’s right.”

Leslie’s mind is spinning. Images of tabloid headlines and diplomatic incidents flash before her eyes. She stands up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I need to make some calls,” she says weakly.

But before she can escape, Christian holds up a hand. “Wait, Leslie. We need to handle this carefully. Max, how long has this been going on?”

“About six months,” Max replies. “We met at a charity event in London. Hit it off right away.”

Leslie sinks back into her chair, her head in her hands. “Six months,” she mutters. “You’ve been dating the Princess of Wales for six months, and we’re just finding out now?”

Max has the grace to look a bit sheepish. “We wanted to keep it private for as long as possible. You know how it is with the media.”

Oh, Leslie knows. She knows all too well. “Max,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady, “do you realize what this means? The security implications alone ...”

“It’s all been taken care of,” Max assures her. “The palace has been very discreet.”

Leslie laughs, a slightly hysterical edge to it. “The palace. Of course. Because now we’re dealing with actual palaces.”

Christian clears his throat. “Right. Well, this certainly changes things. Leslie, I think we’re going to need to reschedule the rest of this meeting. Can you get started on a press strategy?”

Leslie nods numbly, her mind already racing with potential scenarios and damage control plans.

As the room begins to clear, Max approaches her. “Leslie? Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Leslie takes a deep breath. “Max, I appreciate you telling us. But next time you decide to date royalty, maybe give us a heads up a bit sooner?”

Max chuckles. “Sorry about that. If it helps, you’re handling it better than your counterpart at the palace did when you found out.”

“Oh God,” Leslie groans. “I’m going to have to coordinate with the royal PR team, aren’t I?”

“They’re actually pretty cool,” Max says. “A bit stuffy at first, but they loosen up after a while.”

Leslie shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this is my life now. Okay, Max, I need you to tell me everything. How did you meet? How have you kept this secret? What are the security arrangements?”

For the next hour, Leslie grills Max on every detail of his relationship with you. She learns about secret rendezvous in Monaco, carefully orchestrated “chance” meetings at public events, and the challenges of dating someone whose every move is scrutinized by the world.

“And you’re sure about this?” Leslie asks finally. “Dating her ... it’s not exactly going to be easy for you.”

Max’s expression softens. “I know. But she’s worth it. We’re worth it.”

Despite her stress, Leslie feels a twinge of sympathy. It can’t be easy, trying to nurture a relationship under such intense pressure.

“Alright,” she sighs. “I’ll do everything I can to make this as smooth as possible. But Max, promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“No more bombshells, okay? My heart can’t take it.”

Max grins. “Well, actually ...”

Leslie’s eyes widen in alarm. “What? What is it now?”

“Her father ... he’s a big F1 fan. He’s been hinting that he’d like to attend a race.”

The room starts to spin. The last thing Leslie hears before everything goes black is Max’s concerned voice saying, “Leslie? Leslie, are you okay?”

When Leslie comes to, she’s lying on the conference room couch, with Max and Christian hovering over her anxiously.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Christian says, relief evident in his voice. “You gave us quite a scare there, Leslie.”

Leslie sits up slowly, her head still spinning. “Please tell me I dreamed all of that,” she mutters.

Max shakes his head, looking apologetic. “Sorry, it’s all real. Are you okay? Should we call a doctor?”

Leslie waves him off. “No, no, I’m fine. Just ... processing.” She takes a deep breath, her PR training kicking in despite her shock. “Okay. Let’s take this one step at a time. First, we need to draft a statement.”

Christian nods. “Good idea. What are you thinking?”

Leslie stands up, pacing as she thinks out loud. “We need to confirm the relationship without making too big a deal of it. Something like ... ‘Red Bull Racing confirms that driver Max Verstappen is in a relationship with Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Wales. We ask for privacy as they navigate this new chapter.’”

Max frowns. “Isn’t that a bit ... formal?”

Leslie sighs. “Max, you’re dating the future Queen of England. Everything’s going to be a bit formal from now on.”

“She hates that, you know,” Max says softly. “All the formality. It’s why she likes being with me. I treat her like a normal person.”

Leslie pauses in her pacing, struck by the vulnerability in Max’s voice. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

Max nods. “More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. She’s ... she’s amazing. Smart, funny, kind. When I’m with her, I forget about all the titles and protocol. She’s just ... her.”

Christian clears his throat, looking uncomfortable with the display of emotion. “That’s all well and good, but we need to think about the bigger picture here. This relationship could have major implications for the team, for Formula 1 as a whole.”

Leslie nods, her mind already racing ahead. “We’ll need to coordinate with the palace on all public appearances. Security will need to be completely overhauled. And the media ... oh God, the media is going to have a field day with this.”

“Hey,” Max says, placing a hand on Leslie’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. You’re the best in the business, Leslie. If anyone can handle this, it’s you.”

Despite her stress, Leslie feels a rush of affection for the young driver. “Thanks. I appreciate that. Now, let’s get back to work. We have a lot to do before this news breaks.”

As they settle back into planning mode, Leslie can’t help but shake her head in disbelief. A Formula 1 driver and a princess. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale or a cheesy romance novel. But as she watches Max’s face light up when he talks about you, she realizes that sometimes, reality is stranger — and more romantic — than fiction.

“Oh, and Leslie?” Max adds as they’re wrapping up. “About the King wanting to attend a race ...”

Leslie holds up a hand. “One crisis at a time, Max. Let’s get through announcing your relationship before we start planning any more royal visits to the paddock, okay?”

Max grins. “Fair enough. But just so you know, he’s particularly interested in the British Grand Prix. Says it would be ‘jolly good fun’ to present the trophies.”

Leslie closes her eyes, already imagining the logistical nightmare. “Max, I swear, if you’re joking ...”

“Would I joke about something like this?” Max asks innocently.

Leslie looks at him for a long moment, then turns to Christian. “I’m going to need a raise. And possibly a personal team of therapists.”

Christian chuckles. “I think that can be arranged. Welcome to the new era of Red Bull Racing. It’s going to be an interesting ride.”

As Leslie gathers her notes and prepares to face the whirlwind that’s about to engulf them all, she can’t help but smile slightly. It’s going to be challenging, stressful, and probably more than a little crazy. But as she watches Max’s eyes light up at the mention of your name, she realizes that maybe, just maybe, it might all be worth it in the end.

After all, who doesn’t love a good fairy tale?

3K notes · View notes

seungisms · 2 months ago

Text

( skz headcannons ) his favourite ways to kiss you .ᐟ

🖇️📂 … or how skz likes to kiss you inside and outside of the bedroom

genre: smut, minors dni, warnings: unprotected sex, semi-public sex, dry humping, oral (female receiving) note: swear this was meant to be pure fluff but my finger slipped oops 😮‍💨 ngl i got kinda carried away so this is extremely nsfw - sorry, i can’t help myself when it comes to these pussy munchers

방찬. BANG CHAN

his favourite past time is making out with you

so you best believe he goes all in

no way he’s half assing it

loves slow, lazy makeouts at night when he’s all tired and stressed from work, forgetting all his worries as soon as he gets your pretty lips on his

sits with you on your little worn out sofa, arm slung around the back of it to keep you tucked into his side, jaw working your mouth open

real slow and gentle with it, groaning into your mouth when you nip and sigh cutely against him - hands bunching up his shirt to pull him even closer into you

could sit with you like that for hours

and when you break away to suggest going to bed cause you both have to be up early the next day, he just chases after your swollen lips with a pout on his face, muttering ‘just five more minutes’ before shoving his tongue down your throat again

and five minutes always turns into another half hour with this guy

he just can’t get enough of you :(

FOREHEAD KISSES!!

also loves to give you little pecks on your neck and behind your ear whenever you’re cuddling

and will blow raspberries against your skin like the little shit he is

you better believe he pours every ounce of love he has for you into every little kiss

especially when he has your legs wrapped around his waist with his cock bumping into your cunt

lets out the filthiest groans and grunts into your mouth and doesn’t leave you alone for a minute, eating up all your little gasps for air

you’ll literally have to force this guy off you

“chan honey, i can’t breathe.”

“i’m sorry 🥺 you just taste so good 🥺🥺🥺”

he’s obsessed

this guy just has to keep his mouth busy or else he’ll go insane

not able to keep his lips to himself

they’ll be attached to your tits, collarbones, neck; literally everywhere, licking and nipping at the pretty skin when you sink down painfully slow on his dick, hitting so deep inside you it knocks the wind out of you

he mostly does it to muffle his needy whimpers, strong arms arms snaking around your waist to pull you even closer to his chest, so close you’re practically one

and with every sink of his teeth in your skin and desperate hump of his hips - nudging his cock even deeper into your tight, hot cunt - has you trembling in his arms, brain cloudy and fogged and full of him

hardly able to do anything but sit pretty on his cock and take it, gasping and whining and clawing at him

until his lips are making their way back up to your neck, pressing a sloppy kiss against your lips just as you finally cream on his length, spurring a few more desperate thrusts of his own until he’s pumping you full

and your sweet little whimpers don’t even get a chance to slip past your lips before they’re being swallowed up by him

extremely gentle with you afterwards, pulling his softening cock out of your warmth and shushing your whine when his cum gushes out of you and onto your thighs

pressing a few more heated kisses against your mouth before they’re back on your chest, kissing the marks he left better

리노. LEE MINHO

good luck getting this guy to kiss you in public

number one hater of pda

loves riling you up and watching as you tug on his arm to get his attention, a cute whine leaving you when he doesn’t so much as spare you a second glance

he just wants to see you beg first :(

but the second he sees a little pout thrown his way and your eyes staring up at him all needy and pretty he’s f o l d i n g

he gets so carried away too

so you won’t be able to even give him a little kiss throughout the day cause as soon as you try to walk away he’s pulling you back flush against his chest, ignoring your protests before planting his lips onto yours - hand stroking the curve of your back making you melt into him

and he loves seeing that dumb fucking look on your face when he slowly pulls away, eyes hyper focused on his lips and itching to kiss them until they’re bruised and swollen and only craving you

“if you’re gonna kiss me at least do it right.”

yeah he just can’t help himself when it comes to you

gets to the point where you’ll have to leave the house without even saying goodbye to him cause you know you’ll end up in his lap with your skirt bunched around your waist, his pretty lips working you up for the next half hour if you do

loses his mind whenever you wear lipgloss

loves the sight of your lipstick stain all over his face whenever you makeout, tasting your strawberry lipgloss on his tongue, sticky and pretty pink

he’s all over them whenever he’s stretching you out nice and good around his cock

quietens your desperate gasps of pleasure with a rough kiss, all open-mouthed and sloppy as he fucks up into you

telling you to stfu or he’ll stop

but you just can’t help yourself when he’s so big and hitting so deep

he’ll reach down and rub his fingers against your nub as you close in around his length - panting into the kiss as you deepen it even more, tongue pushing into his mouth and lapping up his taste

king of lip biting!!

takes your bottom lip between his teeth when he feels you’re too far gone, eyes unfocused and dazed as you struggle to keep yourself grounded, hands all over his back, arms ass - anywhere you can reach

just to feel

and his little tug on your lips has you coming back to reality, cunt pulsing and hot as he slows inside of you, pulling away just to ask,

“you okay baby? sure you can take what i’m giving you? looks like you’re lost in that pretty little head yours.” and he’s sososo smug about it

you can do nothing but pull him back to your lips, just wanting him to shut up and fuck you like he means it, making him grunt into your mouth as he brings his hips back to their wild pace

likes playing with your clit when he’s inside you too, soaking his fingers up in your wetness just to bring them up to your mouth not a second later

and you just can’t stop bouncing on his cock, moaning lewdly when he shoves them between your lips, kissing and sucking on the digits in desperate need

nearly nuts right then and there when your eyes roll into the back of your head from tasting yourself, pulling them out just to replace them with his mouth - tasting your pussy on his tongue

makes his cock swell up even more

and it won’t be long until he’s panting your insides with sticky, white ropes of cum

his mouth continuing to eat up your begs

창빈. SEO CHANGBIN

wishes kissing you all day paid a mortgage cause if it did that man would have you TORTURED

he’s just a simple man

and he has one simple ideology

pretty lips / they’re gonna get kissed

and what is he supposed to do when you have the prettiest lips ever

just begging to be kissed

bro will have your lipgloss LICKED off you

he’s so playful with it

likes to squish your cheeks between his fingers and kiss your pouted lips over and over until you literally have to fight him off

he’s so annoying

the only form of currency this guy accepts is in the form of kisses

YOUR kisses

so if you ever want smth this guy will make you beg for it

doesn’t matter if you’re in public

this fucker gets a kick out of embarrassing you

points at his puckered lips and giggles like a little shit until you finally roll your eyes and give in

and he just can’t help himself but get so lost in the sweet taste of you that he’ll forget you’re in the middle of the fucking mall and full on making out with you

and laughs hysterically when you get scolded by a worker

such a brat istg

but how can you not possibly give him what he wants when he’s looking at you all 🥺

likes kissing you all slow and sloppy on his off days, cozied up in his bed and completely wrapped up in him - his clothes, his arms, his lips coaxing pretty sounds from you

pulls away every now and then just leave a few more tired pecks against your lips - smiling all smitten against them and pulling you even tighter into him

has to keep his lips busy or he’ll crash tf out

l i v e s for fucking you on his studio chair, sweat and gasps filling up your senses as his cock hits all those sweet spongy spots inside you - watching your head loll back and your eyes roll into the back of your skull - and what’s a man to do when the skin of your neck is looking so delicious and kissable

he’ll be groaning and grunting and muttering the most vile shit into the crook of your neck, sweet kisses being placed on your jaw as he soaks up all your sighs

loves seeing your pretty tits all marked up

and can feel himself get hard again when he sees them once he empties himself inside of you

definitely nuts as soon as you mark him up

this man literally makes out with your pussy

all messy and full of spit and cum and he just gets absolutely lost in you

pulls away now and again to kiss the inside of your thigh, leaning his cheek against it after to look up at you

and just loves how easy he’s able to make you fall apart on his tongue

watching your chest heave and hands claw at the bedsheets, looking for anything to ground your fucked out form before his fingers are intertwining with his own, urging you to meet his pretty eyes

“you okay sweetheart? haven’t even got you on my cock yet and look at you.”

and as soon as you nod numbly he’s diving straight back in, nose bumping and leaving hot open-mouthed kissing against your cunt - coaxing all those sobs and whimpers out of you like your pussy was made for him

현진. HWANG HYUNJIN

staying strong on my tease!hyunjin agenda 🗣️🗣️🗣️

likes to brush his lips against your own as if he’s gonna kiss you, only to tut mockingly before pulling back just when you melt into him

just to see the cute way you try to chase his lips with your own

bro thinks its the funniest thing ever when you huff and try to walk away

before he’s pulling you back against his chest and silencing your complaints with a long, needy kiss

and before he knows it you’ve got him completely wrapped around your finger

cause he’s so head empty and all he can think about is the feel and taste of your sweet lips against his own

so when you even try to pull away he’s whining and chasing after you, begging you to just ditch your plans for the day and just makeout with him

and he will not stop annoying you until you finally cave

but if you decide to ignore him and leave him alone he will nonstop call and text you

“baby when are you getting home? i miss youuuu.”

and you just have to laugh cause he’s so unknowingly smitten for you

he just gets so drunk on your lips

if you go over two hours without seeing eachother he’s all over you

those lips will be KISSED believe me

he’s ready for your kiss no matter what

have you seen those lips

that shit is moisturised af

HAND PLACEMENT!!

likes to keep a hand tangled in your hair, titling your head slightly as he works your jaw open even more, breathing deeply and nipping at your bottom lip - his other hand laying flat on the curve of your spine, keeping you pressed tight against him

another to lose complete control, every time you guys makeout it’ll end with him inside you without fail

doesn’t matter where you are

he’s completely unhinged whenever he gets off stage after a performance

all sweaty and full of adrenaline and soso desperate for you

you swear he’s never looked hotter

he zeroes in on you the second he steps into the room, ignoring anyone and everyone trying to get in his way

and you don’t even have time to congratulate him before he’s pressing into you - a long moan being grunted against your lips the second he gets a taste of you and your sweet mixture of lipgloss and cranberry soda - the hard erection of his cock bumping against your tummy

and he b e g s you to follow him into an empty dressing room or some tightly spaced supply closet, cause he feels like he’s gonna go insane and the feel of your lips moaning and panting against him is enough to work him up even more - bulge pressing hotly in the confines of his pants

bro does not wear underwear so he just whips it out the second he gets you alone

and as soon as he bottoms out inside of you you’re whimpering and withering against the wall he has you propped up on, squeezing your thighs from where they rested on his hips

and he can’t do much to quieten down your begs but press his lips against your own, swallowing up all your cries as he fucks up into you - drunk on the warmth of your hot cunt

“you’re gonna have to be quiet for me pretty girl, don’t want anyone else hearing those cute moans.”

gets so much in his own head and can’t think straight when you’re clamping down on him so snugly

he wouldn’t be able to escape even if he wanted to

so he finds it hard to keep kissing you, telling you to bury your face in his neck to muffle your cries

and there’s just lipstick and bite marks plastered all over him and he just knows his makeup artist is gonna be tearing her hair out tryna cover them all up later

gives you a final long kiss when he cums so deep inside you, grunting like a whore and your name falling off his lips like a prayer as he taints your insides with his seed

he just can’t wait to have you riding his dick later, letting out all those pretty noises you want

한. HAN JISUNG

obsessed

smitten

head over heels

whatever word there is to describe, its how han jisung feels about your lips

so it’s no surprise he just can’t help himself and keep his lips to himself

THE GOAT OF PDA

he couldn’t give a shit if you’re in public, this guy will sneak in a kiss any chance he gets

and you’ll have to scold him every time cause before you know it he’s completely kissed all your makeup off

but what’s a girl to do when your boyfriend is looking at you all needy and begging for attention

and you just can’t resist cause have you seen this mans lips??

bro is a babygirl and has a babygirl type pout on his face permanently

he goes too far with it every time though

to the point where the other boys boo and throw imaginary rotten tomatoes at you and tell you to get a room

and he’s just like :)

and drags you away to kiss you some more

his fav activity hands down

hands will be ALL OVER YOU

on your ass, messing up your hair, dipping under your skirt - you name it, his hands are exploring it

and you’ll have to shoo him away every time cause he’ll just get too carried away and try to finger you in public

he’s such a sucker™ for you

he just about melts whenever you’re the first to initiate a kiss/makeout

he’s all over you 24/7 so to see you chasing after him, all needy and cute whines is a big ego boost

he won’t be able to keep up his smug act for long though before you’re tugging him down by his shirt, an embarrassingly loud groan being choked out against your lips the second he feels your tongue licking and kissing away at him - and you’d roll your eyes at how desperate he’s being if you weren’t so busy tryna slip your hands into his pants

he’s such a needy boy so whenever he gets too overstimulated he’ll beg you to kiss him, his cock all red and swollen in your hand - leaking with precum and just begging you to finally sit on it

and he just wants to stay grounded and focused, his pretty eyes all teary looking up at him, heavy pants into your mouth when you lean down and work his lips open with your tongue

and he’s letting out the sluttiest little whimpers, bucking up into the hand fisted around his dick

small fucked out begs of “please angel, just move your hand, suck me off, sit on my dick - anything. i’ll take anything, just do something.”

and he just sounds so ruined the only thing you can do is smile mockingly against his lips, thumb pressing down on the slit of his cockhead causing him to tremble in your hold

by the time you’re done with him he’s all sticky and used, and he can barely respond to your comforting kiss

whimpering into it when your small praise of “you did so well sungie,” hits his ears

whenever he’s eating you out he’ll leave little pecks against the plush skin of your thighs to work you up, watching the way your pussy glistens so prettily the closer he gets

he’s fucking gone the second he clamps his mouth down on your pussy, eyes rolling into the back of his head and whining as the taste of you invades all his senses

plants a big messy kiss against your cunt before eating you out like a man starved

someone feed him

필릭스. LEE FELIX

soft boy™

loves loves loves kissing you in the morning

he thinks you’ve never looked prettier

with your hair all disheveled and eyes all sleepy, throwing him a tired smile as you cuddle into his side

and morning breath be damned cause he just can’t help himself from titling your head towards him, humming into your mouth as he leaves a loving kiss against it

doesn’t matter if he as work in an hour, he will take his time loving on you, ensuring every kiss he places is as meaningful as possible

kisses your eyelids, your forehead, your fingertips

anywhere he can reach

the way he kisses you is so affectionate each and every time, as if he’s silently telling you how much he loves you

he knows you have him wrapped around your finger, time slowing to a stop every time his lips come in contact with your own

and he’d rather be no where else, the slow buzz of the traffic outside droning on in the background as his lips capture yours again and again, snuggling you deeper into the sheets

kisses you as if you are both disconnected from the rest of the world

gets soso huffy whenever his phone dings while he’s lost in you, silencing it without even breaking away from you and you’re like

“lix, you were meant to be in work an hour ago.”

“just another minute.”

and you can’t even fight him on it cause his lips are so soft and addicting and you swear you could stay like this all day

literally will only pull away if chan barges in and tells him to get his ass into the studio already

oops

will not regret a thing though

will spend the rest of the day thinking about you and your pretty lips

all over you whenever he’s drunk

literally can’t help himself from kissing you any chance he gets, changbin will have to hold him back - reminding him you’re all in public and it probably isn’t approbate to corner your girlfriend against the wall and kiss her like no ones watching

and he’s just like ‘idccc, i just wanna kiss my pretty baby 😩😩😩”

acts like he’ll die if you don’t kiss him every five minutes

and will not do ANYTHING you ask until he’s rewarded with your sweet lips

gets so giggly and can’t stop smiling into your kisses

he’s so head over heels for you

and it shows in the way he fucks you too

even when he’s stretching you out all nice, he’s still so gentle with it

shushing your cries inbetween heated kisses, and leaving small pecks to the side of your head when he finally buries his cock to the hilt inside you - swearing you’re doing so well for him

extremely vocal

and no matter how much you tell him to stfu cause you’re sharing the dorm with the other boys he just won’t listen

letting out the prettiest mewls when you grind your cunt down onto his cock

so you’ll just have no choice but to eat up his noises, finding it hard to keep up with his needy tongue fucking coupled with the desperate, sloppy thrusts of his hips

could absolutely waste the day away on your lips :(

승민. KIM SEUNGMIN

tries his absolute hardest to keep up his little tsundere act up

but the second you lean into him all teasingly, looking up at him beneath your lashes before planting those sweet lips against his own - he’s kicking his feet and twiddling his thumbs like a fucking schoolgirl 😭

can’t help but hum into your mouth, pulling you even closer against his chest and titling your head up to get better access to your kisses

and when you pull away he wouldn’t be able to fight off the coy smile that takes over his face

until he overhears hyunjin and changbin teasing him about how cute he looks when he’s in love

istg he tries to fight them

and god the amount of kisses it takes to subdue this man is criminal

but you eventually manage to convince him to not murder his hyungs, at least not in public

truly not into your small, little chaste kisses

loves his makeouts to be as hot and messy as possible, just wants to feel you fall apart in his hold

likes it when you take care of him when he’s had a bad day, sitting him down on your sofa and coaxing yourself on his lap

lets his head hang back against the back of the couch and eyes slip shut as your fingers massage through his tangled hair, lips painting his neck in marks before making your way up to his face, kissing away the stressed furrow between his brows

all the while whispering pretty words of praise

and with every kiss you leave against him he can feel the hot stiffening of his cock against your cunt

just loves having you sit pretty for him in his lap, quick to rid you both of your clothes to feel your bare pussy drag against his cock with every hump of your hips, groans and sighs being gasped into your sloppy kiss

and he’s more than happy to eat up every little noise you let you, every whimper from when his dick bumps into your entrance, nipping when you whine a little too loud - making sure to leave them all swollen and bruised with his need

his favourite type of kisses is when you’re stuffed full of cock

his lips will be everywhere all at once, just absolutely depraved and trying to urge more of those needy moans from your parted lips

likes kissing you when you can barely respond, watching in excitement when your eyes loll to the back of your head and tongue hangs slightly out of your mouth, legs trembling and back arching - feeling the tight fit of his dick pressing into his snug walls just begging you to gush around him

gasped whines not even getting the chance to breath before they’re being swallowed by his hungry kisses

bro eats all that shit up!!

and you can barely keep up with all his licking, teasing, biting - too focused on the movement of his hips fucking into you

and he’s sososo mean about it

“c’mon baby, not even gonna kiss me back? think i at least deserve it for making you feel so good.”

“gonna finally kiss me if i make you cum?”

and his words are just so nasty, laughing when you can do nothing but sob so beautifully, the stretch of his cock being just on the verge of a bit too much

but you wanna fight him on it so bad

cutting his laughing short when you drag him down by his dangling chain to press a hot kiss to his open mouth, legs wrapping around his waist even tighter to press his cock impossibly deeper inside of you

and he can’t even help but chuckle into your mouth like the bastard he is, dick finally hitting that familiar spot inside you, so deep and snug it has you twitching around him

and he’ll just keep kissing you as you cum around him

sometimes when he’s being extra mean to you he’ll kiss your forehead after, planting a soft one on your nose then your lips

telling how much of a good girl you were

아이엔. YANG JEONGIN

worships the ground you walk upon istg

sometimes he thinks he’s coming onto you too strong so he tries to hold himself back when he’s kissing you

but the second you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him firmly against you, fingers playing with the small hairs at the bottom of his neck, he just about loses it

always afraid to kiss you first so he leaves it up to you

and god he kisses so good

smiles into it and toys with the end of your pretty little skirt, nipping occasionally at your bottom lip to pull a gasp out of you

and you’re just like 🤨🤨 who taught you to kiss this good mf

genuinely think he’d be the best kisser in skz

he just takes his time with you

makes you feel so comforted and protected in his arms

bro will not leave for work until he makes sure you’ve been kissed all over, no matter how late he is

and he just spends the whole day unfocused, thinking about getting home to you and kissing you until you’re just as obsessed as he is

will n e v e r kiss you in front of the others though

treats you like a homie

guy held your hand once and never heard the end of it

probably got walked in on by changbin or smth while making out with you and got teased relentlessly

didn’t kiss you for a month straight after

he’s such a hermit and wraps himself up in his room all day playing video games

and the only way to get his attention is planting yourself pretty on his lap when he’s lounging on his gaming chair, doe eyes looking up at you all confused and lips parted ready to ask you what tf you think you’re doing before you’re shoving your tongue down his throat

and you swear his controller nearly broke from how quick he flung that shit to grab fistful of your ass instead

ignoring his teammates shouts over the headset as he dies in whatever fuckass game he’s playing

he doesn’t care, all he can focus on is you, on his lap, working your pretty lips against his own

his kisses become so eager and rushed whenever he’s in the mood

you could be making ramen in the kitchen at 2am and this guy will pop a boner

presses himself up against you, his hard cock fitting perfectly between the crevice of your ass as he leaves sloppy kisses on the back of your neck, working his way up to your jaw

and he’ll never just ask you to fuck, he’ll just grind against you like a little bitch until you finally allow him to finally push your panties to the side and nudge into you

buries his head into the crook of your neck when he bottoms out - planting long kisses against your back from were he has you bent over - all pretty and keening for him

soaking up all your soft gasps and mewls, whimpering a mixture of his name and endless pleas as it all becomes a little too much

2K notes · View notes

silverskyeline · 6 months ago

Text

ੈ♡˳ 'baby fever' - 18+ logan x f!reader

summary: after your first baby is born, logan realises he doesn't want to stop at just one. (4.4k) tags: erm no one look at me, logan has baby fever, fluffy beginning, established relationship, breeding kink, blowjob, p in v, wet & messy, nipple play, overstimulation, creampie (lots of them oops), lots of dirty talk, clit play, missionary + doggy style, dom!logan & kind of sub!reader, crying from pleasure, rough sex, kind of body worship, for the 'home' prompt for logan promptober.

logan swears he’s dreaming, he must be. there’s no possible way he got this lucky, right? he’s holding his own baby girl in his arms, bouncing her on his hip by the bedroom window, watching on in awe as she eagerly takes in the world around her.

the light dances in her eyes while the world passes by behind the glass, birds singing, trees swaying gently, autumn leaves twirling in their yearly gentle dance. everything is new to her, and logan can’t help but be struck by such a profound love. everything feels new to him now too.

he never thought he’d have this, never thought he’d deserve it. still doesn’t believe he deserves it but accepts the role with more honour than any other role he’s been bestowed before it. a father, him, logan, a father.

her eyes droop, and his smile widens more than he thought possible. he makes his way through to her room as he mumbles sweet little words of affection to her in a voice so high pitched that no one would recognise it's his.

you watch on from the bed, a warmth spreading in your chest. you could watch him like this all day. he was a natural, the paternal instinct coming so easily to him. logan had always felt this deep-seated need to protect. though he spent so many years in solitude with no path and insisted he preferred it that way, you knew differently from the moment you met him. logan was a pack animal, through and through.

his eyes land on you as he returns to the bedroom and approaches you, standing at the edge of the bed, reaching out to cup your cheek in a loving gesture. thumb tracing across your soft skin, he speaks, “you look tired too.”

you smile, eyes closing as you lean into his touch, “maybe a little.”

parenthood hadn’t been entirely easy, but you couldn’t have anyone better by your side.

logan carefully makes his way into bed beside you, pulling you against his firm chest as his hand finds your hair and begins to thread through the strands. you hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, soothing you, lulling you, though he could achieve that with his presence alone.

his eyes settle on the window, head tilting to the side. you can practically hear it, the cogs turning. logan might have seemed like a steel trap to others, but he may as well be translucent to you. “what’s up?“ you ask sleepily.

“oh,” he murmurs, he shouldn’t be surprised at this point that you’re alerted by his silent mannerisms, “just. . . thinkin’.”

and he was, thinking about you, about the baby.

“‘bout what?” you yawn.

logan pauses, “. . .would you ever want another one?”

your eyes shoot open and you lift your head to look up at him, you find his expression and realise he’s serious.

he flushes, just a little, but you notice, “never mind.”

a small laugh of disbelief leaves you, “logan howlett, do you have baby fever?”

he flushes deeper, what did that even mean? logan scoffs and you visibly see him retreat into that shell inside his mind.

“oh baby,” you grin, cuddling against his chest as you lean your chin against his shirt to continue gazing up at him lovingly, “you want another baby, huh?”

groaning, he rolls his eyes, “quit it.” he’s beetroot red now, a sight he only reserves for you, though it’s not as though he can help it.

but damn, the baby was only born a few months ago - he was already thinking of your second? the thought fills you with warmth, but more prominently, need. your eyes land on his flushed face as you bite your lip, wondering if he is thinking about filling you up right this very second.

". . . what'cha thinkin' 'bout?" you ask sweetly with feigned naivety as your hand slides down his torso to find the- oh. oh. he's already hard. you know what he's thinking about.

logan groans and tilts his head back when your hand makes contact, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. "nothin'," he lies, his hand covering yours making you squeeze around his length through the material.

your breath catches in your throat, a heat rising in your chest. "is that right?" you whisper, trying to stay in control. the thought of him taking you, hard and deep, whispering filth about how he's gonna make you a momma again over and over is making it hard to resist rolling over onto your back for him.

and he can sense it, can see it in your face, the way your brows twitch as he grows harder under your touch. it's so cute, actually, how hard you try, knowing he's going to pounce any minute.

but he plays your game, he lets you remain 'in control', though you're anything but.

slowly, you sit up on his lap and begin to unbuckle his belt. time isn't exactly a luxury you can both often afford, what with a newborn baby, but you're too in the moment to care about speeding things up just yet.

his hands rest on your hips, digits digging into the skin as he practices restraint. he wants nothing more than to buck up into you, to throw you on the bed and take you. but he waits. like a good boy.

once he's freed from the constraints of his jeans and underwear, you hum softly at the sight of him, long, thick and ready. your mouth waters at the view, and his eyes widen when you begin to lower your head towards his begging, leaking tip. slowly, oh-so slowly.

logans large hand cups the back of your head, easily engulfing you in his grasp as he guides you lower until he feels it. your tongue. it teases across the tip before you're suddenly wrapping your lips around him. his eyes widen further, letting out a grunt as you take him by surprise.

"holy fuck," he huffs in a grin, "hungry for my cock, huh baby?"

you know now that your control is gone, given up happily and submissively. you know it in the grip he has on your hair, the way he's easing you up and down on his cock. and you'd give him everything if you could, the stars in the sky, the whole world if it were possible.

"that's it, get me nice and ready. . ." he mumbles, losing himself a little in the pleasure, the words dripping from his tongue like honey.

you're not sure what deal logan made with the devil to have the ability to talk as sweetly yet as filthy as he does, as well as he does, but you feel entirely grateful as his sinful words serve to dampen your underwear. you moan against his hardening cock, savouring the way every prominent vein feels against your soft tongue.

he pulls you back, looking into your lustful hazy eyes. you look so pretty like that, he thinks, lips red and swollen from sucking so well, eyes hooded and unfocused because you're thinking about how good that cock would feel stuffed deep somewhere else.

"c'mere," he coos, a hand on your hip guiding you forward to sit closer on his lap, "we need to get you nice and ready too, don't we?"

a growl rumbles from the back of his throat as his eyes travel down the path of your body, resting at the apex of your thighs. he purrs in delight when he notices you're already soaked through to your shorts. "wow, that worked up just from suckin' my cock, baby? you really do want me. . ."

you're bright red, shifting needily on his lap. it's always like this, he drives you to the brink of insanity with need before he's even started. you crave him, crave that thick length filling you so perfectly like it always does, and fuck, you'd give him a baby, you'd give him a hundred babies if it meant you get to experience this over and over again.

"shh," he whispers, his thumb snaking down to tease you through your shorts, applying just enough pressure to have you panting, "there we go, gettin' you nice and ready for my cock, my pretty girl. . ." his eyes flit to yours before returning his gaze to the soaked fabric.

"i am ready," you whine through a choked moan. you're literally dripping.

logan shakes his head, tutting, "tsk, tsk. . . need you extra ready for what i'm gonna do to you, you think i'm just gonna cum in you once?"

holy fuck. your head spins, reeling at his words as you feel your pussy clench around nothing. the ache between your legs grows, almost unbearable, pleading to be filled, used. his name leaves your lips in what can only be described as a needy mewl.

"no," he continues, grabbing your chin and pulling you closer, "see baby, i'm gonna cum in you, over and over. 'till you're nice and full, it's all i've been thinkin' about." his breath ghosts against your lips, "and you're gonna take it like a good girl, aren't you? gonna give me another baby?"

you moan breathlessly, how can you even respond to that? instead you nod quickly, swallowing hard as you try in a futile effort to stop your head from spinning.

but he loves you like this, needy, panting, desperate for his cock. sure, he might have been the one blushing earlier, but you're certainly a pretty shade of red now.

"use your words," he whispers against your lips, teasing you with the promise of a kiss, and a whole lot more.

you feel yourself clench again, his thumb still rubbing soft circles against your clit through your shorts, "please."

"please what?" logan grins, loving how your face twists in frustration.

a whine, "please fill me up, want to give you another baby, please? please, fuck, just fuck me."

he can't help but laugh softly at the needy words spilling from your lips in a desperate attempt to coax him inside. and it's working. his body thrums with pleasure as he remembers how good you feel, how he fits inside you like you were made for him, how good you take it when he gets a little rough.

"that's a good girl. . ." he hums, gripping your hips and flipping you over onto your back. his towering muscled form looms over you, your body opening up automatically, legs spreading and hands by your head. you want him to take you, take all of you. now.

"love this body, was made for me y'know. . ." logan mumbles lovingly as he kisses his way down the column of your throat, hands rubbing at your hips before they begin to inch up your shirt. it rises until it covers your face, and he keeps it there as he nips at your chest. "hm, no bra?" you feel his devious smirk against your skin, tongue beginning to flick teasingly at a nipple.

your back arches, the sensations amplified by the loss of sight. fuck, he loves to watch you squirm like this, and those noises you make. . .

he gives equal attention to both nipples, licking and sucking and kissing your breasts with increasing intensity, smirking all the while. finally, he pulls the shirt from your head, your breath catches in your throat as you look down at him and meet his hungry gaze.

logan begins kissing along your tummy, nuzzling against your soft skin, so close to where you want him yet so far. you want to beg, but you don't get the chance, because soon he's pulling down your shorts along with your underwear. he's greedy too.

kissing the skin that's exposed to him, his kisses trail down your mound, ending at the top of your glistening slit. "ah," he grins, eyes glowing like a man of great discovery, "there she is, she's missed me huh?"

all breath escapes your lungs as he licks a stripe along your pussy, groaning at the taste as he does so. he buries his face in you, licking and nudging your clit with his tongue as he devours you. logan swears it feels better for him than for you, could eat you out all day, but that's not what he's here for this time.

"you're so wet, holy fuck," he swallows, panting softly against your skin, "so good for me, so good, just-" giving a few quick kisses to your pussy, he pulls back and removes his shirt, "don't move."

you almost laugh, why would you want to go anywhere? with a man like logan who worships the ground you walk on, kisses you like it's the first time every time and fucks you within an inch of your life every time - you'd be crazy to want to be anywhere else but here, beneath him, where you belong.

he's worked himself out of his jeans and boxers too, admiring the view beneath him as he takes his cock in his hand, slapping it against your slit. with each squeak that escapes you, his smirk grows wider, "love those noises you make, just for me."

you gasp and arch your back as he begins to rub his tip against your wet folds. you're not sure who he's teasing more, himself or you. a moan slips from your lips each time his cock glides up against your clit, sending sparks to your core.

"that's it, feel how hard i am?" he whispers, "yeah, gonna cum so hard in that pretty little pussy, baby, is that what you want?"

you can hardly take it anymore, "god, yes."

he grins, positioning himself as he hooks your knees on top of his arms as he presses down, almost folding you in half. you gasp and grip the sheets at this new position, and gasp even louder as he quickly and easily slips inside of you. "fucking hell," logan huffs, "i hardly even had to move, you want it so fuckin' bad don't you? feel how deep i can get like this?"

and god, you can. you're not sure you've ever felt him this deep. all you know is how good it feels, his cock straining against your tight velvet walls, finally filling you.

when he begins to move, it's like nothing else. he starts at a slower pace, slow deep strokes as his hips meet yours, driving his cock even deeper as you open up to him. his eyes flutter shut and you admire him above you, knowing you're making him feel as good as he's making you feel.

you find your voice again, and speak up, "your cock feels so good baby, don't stop. . ." you get what you secretly wanted, a moan sneaks from his lips. it's soft, wanting, mirroring the need in your own voice. "fuck, love it when you moan for me. . ."

his eyes snap open, a flash of vulnerability and then his lips are crashing against yours. he kisses you with a deep passion as he moves inside you. logan loves the man he becomes when he fucks you, loves that he can let go, be soft, be rough, be whatever he feels. you'll accept him either way, because you're always a spent mess in the end. all for him.

"takin' my cock so well, always do," he huffs against your lips, driving himself a little deeper, wet sounds filling the air as he slips in and out, "gonna feel even better when i make you cum a few times, when you're so sensitive, taking every last drop i give ya."

you moan and pant, nodding, wordlessly begging him to continue.

"and you'll take it, huh, baby? take it cus you wanna make me a daddy again?" he growls, pace increasing as he fucks you harder, primal instinct taking over, "wanna make me proud and let me fill you as many times as i can? many times as i want?"

holy fuck, you can hardly think straight. in fact, you can hardly think at all. there's one thing, one thought swirling around the base of your skull, you don't want him to ever stop.

you clench around his thick cock and his brows lower, pressing his forehead against yours as he pounds you into the mattress. the bed is squeaking, begging for mercy as he continues, but you feel too good for him to hold back anymore. "baby please-"

"baby please what?" he snaps back, panting as he leans further into you, pushing your legs back until they're almost at your ears. you'd be shocked at your own flexibility if you could think at all. "please fill you up? please make you a mommy again? please what, huh? speak, baby, i can't hear you."

gasping at his tone, you feel your pussy flutter around him. he's gonna make you cum, fuck, you're gonna cum so hard. "i- baby i'm-"

but he doesn't let you finish your sentence, not that you'd make much sense at this point anyway. his cock twitches inside you, almost begging to be milked, begging to fill you until you can't take any more. "gonna cum?" logan whispers, already knowing the answer.

and you can't answer, because you're a mess, gasping and moaning and writhing as his cock makes light work of your wet pussy. his thick length glides in, and out, driving deep to meet your cervix with every thrust.

"cum on this cock," a firm command punctuated with a deep thrust that knocks the air from your lungs, "c'mon, make me cum, you wanted it, didn't you? want me to knock you up nice and good."

your orgasm approaches, a warmth spreading through your lower stomach, rising and rising each time his hips meet yours in his relentless pace. you want to tell him that it feels so good, but your words get caught in your throat. and all at once, your climax rips through you.

it comes in waves, building until your walls are spasming around him and he's cumming too, hot white ropes of cum pushed deeper and deeper as his pace quickens. you're both cursing, panting as his cock pushes it deeper and deeper as your pussy flutters and gushes.

even as the climax fades, he doesn't falter. "told you," logan growls, leaning up to grip your thighs, lifting your lower half to the perfect angle as he keeps it suspended in the air in his tight grip, "gonna cum in that pretty little pussy as many times as i can, 'till i know you're carrying my baby."

it's so overwhelming, in the best kind of way. you wriggle as he begins fucking you again, the new angle causing your eyes to roll back as he hits a certain spot that has you sobbing. it feels so fucking good, both his words and his actions causing you to throb.

"that's it, i know you can take it," he soothes you, "that's my girl, c'mon. . ."

tears prick at your eyes, the pleasure once again building to a crescendo. you don't want him to stop, don't want him to ever stop. though you're so very sensitive, and so very tired, you don't fucking care, all that matters right now is him and the messy love you're making.

he feels a tightening in his gut, his mind spiralling, obsessed with the idea of having another child with you. "you like it when i breed you?" he whispers suddenly, testing the waters.

fuck, that word. did he just say he was. . . breeding you?

logan feels the way you clench around him at the mention of the word and he grins, "yeah, you like that don't you? take that fucking cock like a good girl, let me breed you."

"please-" you beg, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. he's really into this, and so are you, unlocking a whole new side to one another as he fucks you fervently.

how can he resist when you beg so sweetly? he's so sensitive, but his need for release chases him, overwhelming him with how intense his second orgasm is. he spills into you, gasping and grunting as his grip on your thighs tightens. "oooooh f-fuck," logan groans, "feel that? feel me fucking my cum even deeper?"

you're both lost in pleasure now, and with his stamina you know he's not done yet. he grips your hips, flipping you onto your tummy as he grabs your ass, pulling it up for him. keeping his cock nice and warm inside you, he pauses for a few moments.

"can you take another one?" he asks, panting. he'd never push you past your limits, leaning down against your back to give you a gentle kiss on your neck.

your second release is coming, and though you're exhausted, you need more. "yes," you reply, gripping the pillow as he immediately begins to move.

his head tilts back, his palm sliding down your spine, feeling your soft skin beneath his calloused hand and the sensation of your body bouncing back against him. one hand grips your hip as he begins his movements, slowly fucking you, taking his time.

he knows you're close, and he knows your second release will have him cumming a third time, so he focuses on your pleasure. "that's it baby, taking it so well. . ."

you groan into the pillow beneath you, muffled by the fabric. it all sounds so wet, both your release and his dripping from your aching cunt. you know you'll be sore tomorrow, but who the fuck cares? he's fucking you so good you're not sure you'll ever be able to think clearly again.

he's reduced you to a puddle, wet and begging for more.

"such a good girl for me, lettin' me breed you. . ." his hand trails around your front, tickling down along your tummy until he finds your clit. it's swollen, sensitive, and as soon as he begins to play with you, you're a squealing mess.

he grins against your ear, groaning roughly, "you can take it, know you can, make me cum one more time."

you bounce back against him, feverishly chasing each movement, each time he pounds you sending you spiralling further and further into pleasure.

"gonna fuck a baby into you," he kisses behind your ear, "feel all that cum?"

a whine is all you can manage, sweat causing your hair to cling to your forehead, whole body hot and desperate. all for him, always for him.

"yeah you do, take it," he snarls, huffing as he feels his own release build once more. oh god, this one might destroy him. you feel too good wrapped around him like that, the way your wet pussy takes him in so gladly, cause it's his. you're his.

"'m gonna cum-" you cry, sobbing into the pillow as your thighs shake till you can't take it anymore. you're flat against the bed now, his body behind you, taking, pounding against you relentlessly like a man deprived.

but he can't speak, can only communicate in growls and gasps as he explodes inside you, sending you propelling towards your orgasm. it hits you like a bullet, deep, hard, teetering on painful but quickly replaced with so much satisfaction that your screams sound like howls.

he continues working your clit beneath you, slowing his pace until you're both a sweating, panting mess of limbs.

it takes him a while before he can find words, bringing a hand to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear so he can see those features of yours he loves so much. "you alright?" logan asks with that rare soft voice he adopts when he's caring for you. his warm baritones make everything better, voice alone better than any sex.

"mh," you nod, world slowly returning to you in bits and pieces. he pulls out of you, taking a second to admire how very full of him you actually are. he can't help but bite his lip at the sight, watching as his cum leaks from your tight hole, fluttering from the loss of contact.

"didn't go too hard?" he asks, carefully and tenderly turning you onto your front as he grabs some spare pillows.

you shake your head, a smile curling on your lips as you bask in the afterglow, loving how sweetly he takes care of you. he lifts your hips with ease, placing some pillows below.

your eyes lock on one another and he grins, "what?" he asks, "said i was gonna get you pregnant, didn't i? gotta keep your hips elevated, keep me inside."

a flush falls upon your cheeks and you laugh breathlessly as he relaxes into the bed beside you, nuzzling into your neck. he fits against you so perfectly, arm wrapping around your waist while he presses gentle kisses to your skin.

but you feel a mischevious smirk tug on his lips against you, "what is it, logan," you ask in a drawl, grin taking over your features.

"well, was just thinkin'-"

"never a good idea, you, thinking. just leads to trouble," you tease.

he scoffs, "shut up," before continuing, "what're we gonna name out third baby?"

your eyes widen, "third?" he must have made a mistake, maybe he's too fucked out to think straight. you know you are.

"yeah," he grins, his hand snaking from your waist to rest on your tummy, giving it a gentle pat, "after this one."

"more?!" you gasp, slapping his hand with a giggle. "logan howlett." ugh, he's the worst.

he loves that reaction from you, he thinks it's cute you assume he's joking.

except, he isn't joking.

"yeah, c'mon, you think i'm gonna be able to stop at just two?"

you flush deeper, feeling his warm palm splay across your stomach as you tilt your chin down to look into his eyes.

"need names. lots of 'em." logan's eyes sparkle, he's trouble, always has been, and you love it. but you start to wonder if you should have bought a bigger house.

"start makin' a list. now."

4K notes · View notes

dollgxtz · 3 days ago

Text

Two Can Play That Game

Word Count: 8.7k

Tags: Sylus x fem!reader, brat taming, dom/sub undertones, spanking (with a belt), jealousy, orgasm denial, punishment, fingering, teasing, nicknames like kitten, sweetie, good girl, reader is very spoiled and bratty :3

Summary: Sylus never says no to you. He usually buys you whatever you want, whenever you want. But today he says it just to get a rise out of you. Fine...two can play that game. However, you will soon find out that even he has his limits when jealous...

"I must ask," he says conversationally, his breath warm against your ear, "Was it thrilling to take pictures for other men while in another mans bed? In clothes he bought you?" His fingers tangle gently in your hair, not pulling, just establishing control. You don't answer him. You know better not to answer such a question. Your breath catches in your throat as he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper. "For every...lets say $100, that's one hit with the belt."

AN: This was supposed to be a little drabble but I got carried away oops. I was inspired by the new phone call where Sylus gets so clearly jealous over that worker in the cafe...I mean what more can I say. Jealous Sylus is hot :33

"Please please pleaseeee," you whine, tugging at the hem of Sylus's coat and looking up at him with the biggest, sparkliest eyes you could muster. You even puff out your cheeks a little for added effect, knowing full well what kind of reaction that usually earned you.

"I need at least $1000 if I want to get every limited edition item before they sell out...they're going so fast," you say, tightening your arms around his waist like a koala refusing to be pried off a tree.

This little act wasn’t new. You’d done this routine more times than you could count—sweetly pouting, batting your lashes, and pressing your cheek against his chest as you begged him for your latest indulgent whim. And Sylus, your ever-indulgent partner, had always been so easy to sway. He’d never even hesitated. Whether it was sleek black cards slid into your palm or transfers pinged to your phone with a little kiss on your temple, he had always, always given in.

"How could I ever say no to my sweet girl?" he would murmur, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. Sometimes he'd even pick you up and give your face gentle kisses, like spoiling you was the highlight of his entire day.

But today...today was different.

He gave you a soft smile—still affectionate, still gentle—but then, to your absolute horror, he shook his head.

"Mmm...I think not today, kitten. Next time," he said, voice calm and maddeningly firm.

Your arms froze around him. Your expression dropped in real-time, eyes wide, mouth parting in disbelief. Did he just—did he actually—say no? He had quite literally never said no before. Not once. Not even when you asked for that ultra-rare imported skincare fridge that cost more than a mortgage. This had to be some kind of joke. Right?

You pulled back just enough to look up at him fully, lips wobbling, ready to protest again. You were already cycling through your arsenal of cute tricks—maybe a dramatic sigh? Teary eyes?—because surely this wasn’t how this ended. Not with a "no."

"But Sy..." you gently whined, faceplanting into his chest with an exaggerated pout. The nickname was your secret weapon, sweet and playful, something you knew always made his heart melt just a little. "It’s limited edition stuff! You know how fast those go. And I’ve been good too…" you added with a soft, teasing tone, slowly trailing your finger along the curve of his neck, the gesture feather-light and flirtatious.

You were confident this would do the trick. It always did. Your go-to routine of sweet pleading paired with just the right amount of clingy affection had never failed before. He’d usually cave within seconds, either sighing contently before handing over his card or laughing under his breath about you being spoiled while simultaneously transferring money to your account. But this time…

This time, all you got in return was that infuriating smirk of his.

"You look adorable with that expression, sweetie" he said casually, chuckling as he ruffled your hair in a way that felt more teasing than affectionate. "Perhaps I’ll let you keep it for today. For my amusement."

You froze in disbelief, blinking rapidly. That wasn’t a yes. That wasn’t even a maybe. That was—was he seriously refusing you right now? Your glare sharpened instantly as your lips jutted out into a full-blown pout. You thumped his chest—not hard, but pointedly—and let out a long, frustrated huff.

Oh. So he wanted to play games today? Fine. Game on.

You stepped back dramatically, throwing your arms up with an exaggerated sigh. “Whatever. Have it your way,” you huffed, spinning on your heel and stomping toward the car like an offended princess denied her crown. You made sure he saw the little toss of your hair, the extra sway in your hips—because if he wanted to be difficult, you were going to be impossible.

The date wrapped up without much drama—well, if you didn’t count the dramatic pout glued to your face all evening, or the way you stubbornly gave Sylus the cold shoulder from the moment he refused you. You sat across from him at the candlelit table, arms crossed tight beneath the linen napkin on your lap, chewing your steak with slow, deliberate bites like the food had personally offended you. You barely looked in his direction, except to shoot the occasional glare or let out a sigh so loud the table next to you probably heard. A whine here, a sharp huff there—just enough to make it painfully clear you weren’t going to let this go.

And Sylus? That cocky menace? He didn’t budge. He just sipped his wine with maddening calm, eyes twinkling like this was all an elaborate joke for his amusement. At one point, he leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his palm, and smiled. "You know," he said, voice smooth and low, "kittens always make the same little noises when they’re upset."

You nearly dropped your fork.

Ooooh. This jerk. You wanted to launch a breadstick at his head. You wanted to crawl across the table and wipe that smug grin off his stupidly perfect face. But how? That was the problem. Sylus didn’t rattle. He didn’t flinch, didn’t fumble, didn’t even raise his voice at you. No matter what bratty storm you stirred up, he was always maddeningly patient, always one step ahead.

You sulked all the way to the car, all the way through the quiet drive home, arms folded like a fortress across your chest. Your mind raced the entire ride, cycling through schemes and petty revenges like flashcards. Maybe you’d text one of your admirers, just to provoke a reaction. Maybe you’d steal and attempt to max out his black card on purpose. Something—anything—to make him crack.

When the car finally pulled up to the mansion, you didn’t even wait for him to open your door. You climbed out with exaggerated grace, tossed your hair, and strutted up the stairs like an offended queen returning to her palace. But then, just as you stepped inside, fate handed you the perfect opening.

His phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, sighed, and gave you an apologetic smile. "Business. I’ll have to leave for a bit" He pressed a soft kiss to your lips—infuriatingly gentle—and disappeared out the door, already speaking in that cool, professional tone of his.

And just like that, you were alone. Whatever, not like you weren't used to his sudden disappearances by now.

Alone in his sprawling, high-ceilinged foyer, surrounded by leather furniture, dim lighting, and that faint scent of cologne that always lingered in the air. Unsupervised. Unchecked.

Your lips slowly curled into a smile.

Oh, Sylus. If he thought your tantrum was over…

You made your way upstairs to the bedroom, each step slow and deliberate, the cool floor a quiet contrast to the heat bubbling under your skin. The air was still, heavy with that faint scent of cologne and luxury that always clung to Sylus’s space, and it only fueled the spark of rebellion in your chest. If he thought he could brush you off with a smile and a kiss on the lips, he had another thing coming.

The second you entered the room, your eyes were locked on your shared closet. You didn’t hesitate. Determination hardened your gaze as you swung the doors open and began to dig. Silks, lace, structured jackets, soft cotton tees—none of it was what you needed. Your fingers moved quickly, flicking through hangers, rummaging through drawers, pausing only to toss aside a piece or two that got in your way.

Then, your fingertips brushed over something thin and impossibly soft. You froze. Pulled it out. And there it was.

Tucked neatly toward the back, untouched and still wrapped in soft tissue from the boutique: a white slip dress. Almost sheer, impossibly delicate. Not see-through enough to be scandalous, but sheer enough to spark the imagination. You held it up, letting it sway gently in your hands as a grin tugged at the corners of your lips. Oh yes—this would do nicely.

It was the kind of dress that was made to be seen by someone who wouldn’t be allowed to touch. Innocent in color, wicked in fit.

You stripped out of your clothes with little ceremony, letting your discarded outfit fall to the floor. Then you stepped into the slip dress, carefully pulling it over your shoulders and smoothing it down over your figure. The fabric was featherlight, almost like a second skin, clinging in all the right places and catching on the subtle curves of your body. The hem kissed the top of your thighs, the neckline dipping just low enough to draw the eye.

You adjusted the straps, letting one slip slightly off your shoulder before nudging it back into place. The mirror reflected back something soft, sultry, and calculated. You tilted your head, gave your reflection a slow once-over, and lifted the hem slightly to re-adjust where it clung a little too high at the hip.

It was a look that said, "Oops, did I wear this by mistake?" when every stitch was picked out with intent.

You even applied a light layer of gloss to your lips and tousled your hair a little, just enough to give it that messy, just-out-of-bed sheen. Not too perfect—no, that would ruin the effect. You wanted to look like a dream and a challenge all at once.

You stepped back, admiring the effect with a smirk that tugged at your lips.

Yeah. This would more than do.

You pulled out your phone and made your way to Sylus's bed, crawling onto the plush comforter with a wicked little smirk playing on your lips. The soft fabric of the dress slid over your skin as you moved, clinging tighter with every shift of your hips. It was like the dress had been made for this—barely-there, teasing just enough to be dangerous. You positioned yourself carefully, angling your body this way and that, letting the hem ride up a little higher each time, letting the neckline dip lower than it should. You knew your angles, and you weren’t afraid to use them.

Your hair spilled around your shoulders as you arched your back just enough to accentuate your figure, your lips parted slightly in a deliberately breathless expression. You cycled through poses—knees bent, laying on your side, half-turns that showed just enough. Each snap of the camera was a calculated strike, crafted to toe that perfect line between seductive and untouchable. Every glance at the lens carried a silent message: look, but don’t you dare touch.

You finally landed on the winning shot.

You were laying flat on your stomach, feet kicked up in the air behind you in an almost playful pose, your body stretched across the bed like a perfectly unwrapped gift. The camera angle was just right—your butt peeked into the edge of the frame, subtle but impossible to miss. The front of your chest was also faintly visible, pressed softly against the sheets, hinted at through the thin slip of fabric that caught the light in all the right places. The image was an illusion of innocence, cloaked in silk and suggestion. It whispered secrets without saying a word.

You giggled to yourself, the kind of giggle that came from knowing you’d just lit a match. Scrolling through filters, you picked one that added a warm, golden glow to your skin, bringing out the soft shadows and romantic lighting of the bedroom. Your cheeks looked naturally flushed, your eyes dreamy and a little wild.

Then came the real fun. You opened your social media app and navigated to your public Moments feed, fingers tapping away with ease. A single, sweetly cheeky caption. Nothing too obvious. Just the right amount of flirt. And then the hashtags—oh, you chose them carefully. Trending ones, flirty ones, ones that practically begged people to stop and stare. Ones that would ensure this photo didn’t just go unnoticed. It would explode.

Post.

You hit the button and watched as the image loaded, crisp and glowing on the screen. Your heart fluttered with anticipation, not nerves—but a thrill. You placed your phone down on the bed beside you, letting your body melt into the mattress, stretching out lazily like a cat in sunlight. You felt deliciously smug.

Now it was just a matter of time.

How long until Sylus saw it? How long before someone else did? How long before his phone started buzzing with the growing flood of likes and comments from strangers who had no business seeing you like this—but were absolutely going to anyway?

You tucked your chin into the pillow, smiling to yourself.

It did not take long at all for the post to get some traction.

Within the hour or so, your phone was buzzing nonstop, lighting up with a steady stream of likes, comments, shares, and those little heart notifications that came in quicker than you could keep track of. People were noticing. People were reacting. And you were lounging there on Sylus’s bed, basking in the slow-burning chaos you’d started.

The comments came in waves. Some were sweet, complimenting your beauty, your glow, the elegance of the dress—words like "ethereal" and "goddess" paired with heart-eye emojis and rose-colored filters. Others were...not so polite. Thirsty replies from strangers you didn’t know, saying things that made you cringe, made your brow furrow. A few were outright creepy. You deleted those on sight, blocking users without hesitation, but the damage was already done. The post was out there, and it was spreading fast.

You rolled onto your back with a sigh, your phone raised above your head as you continued scrolling. It was almost funny—how predictable it all was. You knew the moment you posted it what kind of reaction you’d get. You knew the hashtags would push it to the explore pages. You knew someone would tag a friend, then another, then another. But even so, seeing it all unfold made your chest buzz with adrenaline.

You giggled to yourself as you tapped through DMs—some from followers you recognized, others from complete strangers trying their luck. You deleted the worst of them, but not before archiving a few particularly flattering ones. Not because you were interested, of course, but because you knew Sylus might see them.

And that was the real game, wasn’t it?

The ultimate goal.

Then, right in the middle of clearing out a flood of unsolicited messages, a new notification popped up—distinct. Crisp. Your thumb hovered for half a second.

Sylus: I saw it. You can delete it now.

Seven words. No punctuation. No emojis. Nothing but cool, clean finality.

And yet, it hit like a sucker punch to the stomach. You stared at the message, pulse picking up. The smirk returned to your lips, slow and sly. He saw it. He saw it. You could practically feel the shift in the air, the subtle tension winding through the silence of the room like a live wire.

You reread the message. Once. Twice.

And then you did not delete the post.

Instead, you stretched your arms over your head, arching your back into the mattress like a content little cat, your smile widening as you tapped back into the moments app. Notifications were still flooding in. More likes. More reposts. More attention.

If Sylus thought that single message was enough to reel you back in, he clearly underestimated your mood tonight.

Now the real fun could begin.

"Mmmm. Not today. Maybe another time," you texted back, pausing just long enough for a flicker of doubt to creep in before you hit send.

Yeah, get a taste of your own medicine asshole.

The moment your message whooshed off into cyberspace, your heart skipped. Your face grew warm, the flush spreading all the way to your ears. A nervous little flutter worked its way through your chest as you set your phone down on the comforter, then immediately snatched it back up.

Had you gone too far?

You had teased Sylus plenty before—playfully, brattily, dramatically—but this was different. You had never really pushed him. Not like this. He had always let you be a little dramatic, indulging every pout, every sigh, every fake tear with maddening patience. But this? This was... direct defiance. And it made your stomach flip in a way that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

The screen lit up.

Three dots. He was typing.

Your pulse surged. You sat up straighter, fingers gripping the edge of your phone just a bit too tightly. Your eyes were locked on those three little dots like they were a countdown. Here it comes. The reaction. The reprimand. Maybe a taunt, maybe something sharper.

And then—

Nothing.

The dots vanished.

You stared at the screen in disbelief. Wait—what? That’s it? No reply? Not even a period? Just a seen at timestamp to cling to?

Your brows furrowed, confusion giving way to an irritated twist of your lips. No smug comeback? No passive-aggressive sarcasm? No "oh really, kitten?" Just...silence?

Bastard.

You let out a frustrated sound that was somewhere between a growl and a sigh, flopping back dramatically onto the pillows. Your hair spread out over the fabric like a halo as you stared at the ceiling, phone clutched against your chest like it might suddenly buzz with an explanation. But nothing came. Just silence, and your own thoughts chasing themselves in circles.

Was he actually mad this time? That didn’t sound like him. But what if he was? Or worse—what if he was ignoring you on purpose? Letting you stew? Was this part of his plan? Was this some next-level psychological warfare meant to make you squirm?

Well, it was working.

You sat up again with a sharp exhale, glaring at your screen as if you could will a response into existence. The nerve of him. Leaving you hanging like that? No reaction? No witty jab? He was definitely doing this on purpose. And maybe—just maybe—it was kind of hot.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, frustration tangling with something dangerously close to anticipation.

You don’t realize you had fallen asleep until the quiet creak of the bedroom door jolts you from your haze. Your body stiffens instinctively, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes flutter open to the soft golden hue of the bedroom lights. The sheets are still warm beneath you, and for a split second, everything feels still. Peaceful.

Until you see him.

Sylus steps into the room, his movements as smooth and controlled as ever. His face is unreadable—no trace of amusement, no hint of irritation. Just that usual calm, detached composure he always carried. It sends a ripple of nervous energy racing through your chest.

He looks...too calm.

You sit up quickly, heart beginning to race as you reach up to smooth your tousled hair. The silk dress clings to your body, creased slightly from where you’d fallen asleep in it, and your brain scrambles to remember how revealing your last pose had been. You grab your phone, pretending to check it, then think better of it and reach for the sheet instead, pulling it up and over yourself in a feeble attempt to look casual.

“Welcome back…” you murmur, voice soft and slightly hoarse. You force a smile—one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It feels crooked and strained, too tight at the corners.

Sylus doesn’t answer at first. He walks over to the bed with that same quiet, deliberate ease and leans down toward you. One hand sinks into the mattress beside your hip as he lowers himself, and his lips press gently against yours.

Not rough. Not rushed. Just a slow, deliberate kiss.

You blink at him, lips parted slightly as he pulls back. Caught off guard. Completely disarmed.

"Were you sleeping?" he asks, adjusting his tie with one hand, his tone neutral. Almost bored.

It throws you off. He wasn’t going to mention the post?

“Huh?” you blink again, trying to play along. “Uh...yeah. I think today was pretty long for me.” You stretch your arms up in an exaggerated yawn, glancing away like you’re just now waking up. Inside, your thoughts are spinning.

He hums in acknowledgment, his crimson eyes drifting lazily across your figure before returning to the device in his pocket. He pulls it out and unlocks it, gaze cool as his thumb scrolls slowly along the screen.

Still no mention. Not even a look.

Your stomach does a slow, uneasy flip.

You watch him from the corner of your eye, trying to read him, trying to sense something—anything—but he’s a blank slate. Calm. Casual. Like he didn’t just leave you hanging for hours after you posted one of the most daring photos of your life. Like he hadn’t sent that short, pointed message. Like none of it had happened.

Your pulse ticks louder in your ears.

Was this his move now? Leaving you in suspense?

He stands there for a moment longer, thumb tapping occasionally, face unreadable as he scrolls. The silence stretches just a little too long, the air too thick with the tension you’re pretending not to feel.

Why wasn’t he saying anything?

Was this his way of letting you stew? Of reminding you he didn’t have to respond to your games? Or worse...was he unbothered?

Did he really not care?

You swallow hard, trying to keep your cool. But the pressure builds in your chest.

You hear the familiar ding of your phone and glance toward it cautiously. That tone—you knew it. Your heart skips as you reach over and grab the device, already feeling the anticipation coil in your chest. You unlock the screen, and sure enough, your eyes widen.

Bright and bold, the notification glows at you like some kind of digital miracle.

$1,000 deposited to your account from Sylus.

Holy shit. Your plan worked?

You press your lips together, trying—failing—to hide the smug little smile threatening to spill across your face. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Why so shocked?” Sylus says, tone light, but there’s something unreadable in his gaze. He watches you closely, head slightly tilted. “You still want to go shopping, don’t you?”

He doesn’t sound mad. He doesn’t look upset. But there’s something strange in the air—something you can’t quite name. Calm, but not idle. Soft, but edged.

“Yeah, of course, Sy…thank you!” you say, quickly standing up and throwing your arms around him in a hug. He smells like cologne and leather and something darker, something distinctly him.

He hugs you back just as easily, strong arms wrapping around your waist. But then he leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Delete it, sweetie.”

It’s not a threat. Not a growl. Not even cold. But the words settle on your skin like steel. Gentle and final.

Your breath catches.

“Oh! Y-yeah…sorry,” you say quickly, stepping back, fingers already fumbling to grab your phone again. The moment’s playfulness sours ever so slightly as the weight of those words lingers.

He gently smiles at you like nothing happened.

But you know better.

You delete the post without another word.

After deleting the post quickly, you giddily log into your account on the store to start adding the items you so desperately wanted. Your heart is still fluttering from the thrill, and a wide smile plays on your lips as you eagerly pull up your wishlist. A tiny, delighted squeal slips out when you see everything still sitting there—limited edition shoes, accessories, that one impossible-to-find designer dress you’d bookmarked and obsessed over for weeks.

Your fingers move with dizzy excitement, tapping away as you add each item to your cart like it’s a race against time. The numbers keep rising, the total bill ticking higher, but you don’t care. You’re floating in the afterglow of your victory. A thousand dollars, just like that—gifted, deposited, yours.

Maybe you should push his buttons more often, you think with a smug little grin, biting your lower lip. Clearly, a little rebellion went a long way. You imagine how many more little indulgences he might cave to if you kept playing this game right. You can't help but bask in the moment, riding the rush of control you think you have.

That is…until a sound cuts through the quiet air, sharp and deliberate.

Click.

Your ears perk, body instinctively tensing.

The unmistakable sound of a belt coming undone.

You freeze, thumb hovering mid-tap over your phone screen. Your head slowly turns, curiosity getting the better of you despite the knot now forming in your stomach.

Sylus stands by the dresser, hands working with unhurried ease as he slips the leather strap free from the buckle. The soft clink of metal follows. His sleeves are rolled back just slightly, revealing the veins along his forearms as he finishes the motion with a practiced calm. There’s no rush. No warning.

He catches your stare and tilts his head ever so slightly, his expression unreadable.

Then, a slow, deliberate smile spreads across his lips.

"Don’t look back here," he says, his voice deceptively gentle—laced with something darker, heavier, undeniable. "Keep shopping."

Your breath catches in your throat.

Your eyes widen, pulse skipping a beat. There’s no edge to his tone, no visible anger, and yet the command feels like a velvet-gloved grip around your neck. Not harsh. Just final.

You don’t dare speak. You nod quickly and turn your gaze back to your phone, trying to focus, trying to act like nothing’s changed.

But everything has.

Your fingers are shaking slightly now as you tap your screen. The glowing images of handbags and shoes blur together. Your heartbeat thumps in your ears, and your thoughts scatter like marbles across a slick floor.

The room feels smaller now, quieter except for the occasional rustle of fabric as he moves behind you. You don't look back—you wouldn't dare—but every sense is straining to track his movements. Your phone suddenly feels slippery in your grip, and the shopping cart you were so excitedly filling moments ago now seems trivial, even foolish.

You force yourself to scroll through another page of items, pretending to be absorbed in your task. The $1,000 balance that had felt like such a victory now hangs like a weight in your conscience. What had seemed like a clever manipulation has transformed into something else entirely.

The floorboards creak softly behind you. He's moving slowly, deliberately. Your thumb hovers over a pair of shoes you'd been coveting, but you can't bring yourself to tap "add to cart." The game has changed, and you're no longer certain of the rules.

"Finding everything you want?" His voice comes from closer than you expected, making you flinch slightly. The question sounds innocent enough, but the undertone makes your skin prickle with awareness.

"Y-yes," you manage, hating the slight tremor in your voice. You clear your throat and try to project confidence. "Just finishing up."

You feel him approach, his presence like a gathering storm at your back. The air feels charged, electric. He stops just behind you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, but not touching. Not yet.

His hand comes into view as he reaches around you, gently taking the phone from your grasp. You release it without resistance, your fingers suddenly useless. He studies the screen for a moment, scrolling through your selections with casual interest.

"Quite the haul," he observes mildly, as if commenting on the weather. "You must be very pleased with yourself, sweetie."

There's a pause, heavy with expectation. You're not sure if you're meant to answer, if you should apologize, defend yourself, or remain silent. The uncertainty is maddening.

He hands your phone back to you, the screen still glowing with your abandoned shopping cart. Then his fingers brush against your shoulder, tracing a path up to the nape of your neck. The touch is feather-light, but it sends a shiver cascading down your spine.

"I must ask," he says conversationally, his breath warm against your ear, "Was it thrilling to take pictures for other men while in another mans bed? In clothes he bought you?"

His fingers tangle gently in your hair, not pulling, just establishing control. You don't answer him. You know better not to answer such a question. Your breath catches in your throat as he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"For every...lets say $100, that's one hit with this belt."

His words hang in the air, precise and measured. Your breath catches, mind racing to calculate the total in your cart. You swear your heart just fell into your stomach. A belt??? The simple arithmetic becomes suddenly, terribly important.

"S-sylus, I'm really-"

"That's the exchange rate," he continues, calm as if discussing the weather. "Seems only fair, doesn't it? You wanted to play games...so let's play."

You feel his presence shift as he moves slightly, the leather of the belt sliding against itself with a soft, threatening whisper. Your mouth has gone dry, and the excitement of your shopping spree feels like it happened to someone else, in another lifetime.

"How much is in your cart right now?" he asks, though his tone suggests he already knows the answer. "Why don't you check for me. sweetie? Speak up."

Your fingers tremble as you reach for the phone, the screen now seeming to mock you with its bright display of luxury items. The total stares back at you, a number that had brought such satisfaction minutes ago now transformed into a countdown to something else entirely.

You had added way too much to your cart. Plus with the added shipping...it came up to a little past 2,000 dollars. You must've gotten carried away.

He waits patiently behind you, giving you time to absorb the full weight of your actions. The belt dangles from his hand, not threatening, simply present—a promise waiting to be kept.

"Well?" His voice is soft but expectant, leaving no room for evasion.

You shivered, tears welling up in your eyes as the intensity of the sensation overwhelmed you. "Its $2000. I...I accidentally added too much...let me just-" you started to explain, but your words were cut short as you felt the leather of the belt against the back of your leg, its roughness sending shivers through your body.

"Oh, but my sweet kitten, there's no need to take anything away," Sylus purred, his voice laced with amusement. "I'll happily pay for it all. What my kitten wants, she gets, right? You wanted this stuff so badly you were willing to flaunt yourself to get my attention. How adorable."

With a slow, deliberate motion, he lifted the back of your dress, exposing the smooth skin of your butt, the cool air contrasting with the heat of the room. Your body trembled, a mix of pleasure and apprehension, as you felt the leather glide across your sensitive skin, the roughness a stark contrast to the soft caresses you had experienced thus far.

"Now...you're gonna start counting after the first hit" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Squirm or move away and I'll make you add more stuff."

Your brain began to swim. More stuff...more spankings. You already have twenty. Shit. He's actually serious??

"Sylus...please, I'm really sorry," you whined, the words tumbling out as a tear slipped down your cheek. Yet, beneath the anxiety, a forbidden excitement simmered, igniting something deep within you. "Please, just let me give the money back..."

He shushes you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look back at your phone. You feel grabbing the hem of your underwear and pulling them down. You flinch in anticipation and you hear a chuckle behind you.

"Don't laugh at me-!"

You turned your head, words of protest leaving your lips, but they were abruptly stolen away by the sharp, searing kiss of the belt against your skin. A cry tore from your throat, raw and instinctive, as tears sprang forth, soaking into the pillow beneath you. He wasn't playing around; that strike was anything but gentle.

"Still trying to act like a brat hm? I don't want to hear anything but counting, kitten. Starting over."

The sound of leather slicing through the air made your skin prickle, a sharp whistle that seemed to echo through the room before it ever made contact.

The second lash hit with a quick, stinging snap across your thighs. Your breath caught in your throat as the shock bloomed into heat. It wasn’t just the pain itself that made you tremble—it was the anticipation, the weight of each second dragging between every strike. Your hands curled into the sheets as you forced your voice out.

"O-one," you stammered, your tone breathless and shaking.

Another followed. Lower. Sharper. The belt bit into the tender part of your ass and pulled a yelp from your lips.

"T-two," you gasped, teeth clenched.

The third landed with more force, sending a pulse of heat through your core that made you arch slightly, only to flinch from the tension in your spine.

"Three," you whispered, more air than sound.

The fourth came before you could fully prepare, and your voice cracked when you counted, "F-four."

The sting lingered, throbbing beneath the sheer fabric of your dress, heat spreading in slow, dizzy waves. The cool air did nothing to soothe the ache on your bare ass, if anything it made each lash feel more intimate, more deliberate. You bit your lip, body squirming on instinct as the fifth snapped down with a little more force, and your hips twisted to one side.

"Five—!"

But before you could adjust or reposition, Sylus shifted.

His knee came down over the back of your thigh, pinning your leg to the bed with unwavering pressure.

You froze, your entire body tensing beneath him.

"Start adding more things if you're gonna keep moving," he said, his voice a smooth, unbothered murmur. Not cruel. Not angry. But absolute.

The tone left no room for protest. Not from you.

"N-no, I won't move anymore, I promise..."

You swallowed hard, breath shuddering as you nodded without turning to look at him.

"S-six," you whispered, barely able to get the word out before the next hit made your legs twitch under the restraint of his knee.

The seventh landed with precision, and your voice cracked again. "Seven."

By the eighth, your body was trembling. Sweat dotted your lower back and your lips parted with a soft, desperate sound before you remembered to count. "Eight..."

The ninth and tenth came one after the other, timed and even, and you were almost too breathless to speak. Your chest heaved beneath you, and you had to close your eyes just to stay focused.

"Nine. Ten."

You were shaking all over now, a cocktail of pain, adrenaline, and something else you didn’t want to name twisting deep in your stomach. Your thoughts were a blur, your hands clenched around the sheets, your throat dry from trying to keep your voice steady.

But you were still counting.

Still obeying.

By the twelfth hit, you couldn’t take it anymore. The pain had gone from a sharp sting to a deep, burning ache that pulsed with every heartbeat. You buried your face into the pillow, sobbing openly now, the kind of messy, desperate crying that came from somewhere deeper than just your skin. Every part of you was trembling—your arms, your legs, your breath hitching violently as you tried to force your voice to keep counting.

Each strike felt heavier than the last, like Sylus knew just how close you were to breaking. And maybe he did. Maybe that was the point.

But you didn’t stop.

You couldn’t.

"Fourteen..." you choked, your voice hoarse, muffled by the pillow soaked with your tears.

You curled your fingers into the sheets, gripping them like they were the only thing anchoring you to reality. Your thighs burned, your back ached, and your skin felt hot everywhere he’d touched.

"Fifteen..." you whimpered, your whole body jolting at the next hit.

You tried to shift, to escape, just slightly—but the weight of his knee still pinned you down, reminding you that you weren’t going anywhere.

You gasped, eyes squeezed shut, the tears blurring everything.

"Seventeen..."

The numbers were slipping from your lips in broken sobs now, each one harder to say than the last. You didn’t know if he noticed how your breath was catching or how your voice kept cracking—but even if he did, he said nothing.

The silence was maddening.

And then finally, after what felt like an eternity—longer than you thought you could bear—the last strike landed.

"Twenty," you whispered, so faint you weren’t even sure it counted. Your voice was shredded, raw from crying, from counting, from enduring.

But it was done.

You clung to the pillow like a lifeline, tears still trailing down your cheeks as your lungs struggled to draw in a steady breath. Everything buzzed—your skin, your mind, the space between your thoughts.

And somewhere in the center of all that pain and exhaustion, a quiet pride stirred.

You had taken it all.

Every single one.

You held your breath, every muscle tense, waiting—until finally, the sound came.

Thud.

The belt hit the floor.

You let out a broken, shaky sob as relief rushed through you. It was over. The sharp sting, the counting, the pressure—done. The moment that sound registered, your body sagged into the mattress, the tension melting into a full-bodied, uncontrollable release. Tears spilled freely again, this time not from pain, but from the emotional flood that followed. You clutched the pillow beneath you even harder, burying your face into it as your shoulders trembled.

Sylus was gentle now, a complete contrast to the measured harshness he had displayed just moments before. He didn’t rush. His movements were calm, controlled, like he was shifting into a different role entirely. Slowly, carefully, he reached out to you, his fingers brushing your arm first as if to check if you could handle touch again. When you didn’t flinch, he slipped his arms around you and helped guide you onto your side.

Every shift of your sore backside made you wince, but there was no sharpness in his handling. Only softness. You whimpered softly at the movement, your skin raw and burning beneath the thin fabric of your slip. Still, when he pulled you against his chest, you didn’t resist. You melted into him like he was the only steady thing left in the room.

He began to rub slow, soothing circles into your thighs and butt, his fingers featherlight as they traced the reddened skin. He was so careful—almost reverent. The heat of his palms chased the sting from each mark he’d left, easing the tension in your muscles. Your sobs came slower now, quieter, as his touch steadied you.

He held you close, his breath warm and steady against your ear as he leaned in, his voice low and soft.

"Shh, shh…I know it hurts," he murmured, the tenderness in his tone wrapping around you like a blanket. His lips pressed soft kisses across your damp cheeks, your temple, your jaw. "You did such a good job, sweetie. I’m so proud of you."

You blinked through the blur of tears, your lashes sticky and your throat sore from crying. But his words—his praise—poured warmth into your chest. You felt it curl deep inside you, soothing something raw and aching. It didn’t erase the pain, but it dulled the edge of it, made it feel worth enduring.

You turned your face into his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. Leather. Clean linen. A trace of cologne. It grounded you. You clung to him, needing his presence, his calm. And when his hand continued to stroke your hair and rub gentle circles on your back, your breathing began to slow.

And slowly—finally—you allowed yourself to relax.

The worst had passed. The storm of sensation had come and gone, and you had weathered it.

The mattress shifted softly as Sylus adjusted beside you, his hands still warm against your skin. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he moved closer, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. You held your breath for a moment, your pulse quickening at the way his fingers brushed the soft fabric of your slip, teasing the edge of it without hurry.

Then, ever so slowly, he began to trace the outline of your body, his fingers dipping lower, circling the curve of your hips before edging closer to the juncture of your thighs. His touch was featherlight, almost teasing, as he explored the outer edges of your most intimate flesh. You whimpered softly, the sound muffled against his chest, as his fingers danced just beyond the line of your core, deliberately staying on the outside of your pussy.

As his fingers continued their slow, deliberate exploration, he leaned in close, his voice low and soothing as he whispered against your ear.

“You want to feel good now?” His words were a soft, inviting question, a gentle coax that sent a shiver down your spine. “You must've enjoyed that a little too much. You're soaked, kitten.”

Your eyelids fluttered, and you tilted your head slightly, subconsciously seeking more of his touch. His fingers slowed their motion, almost as though he were savoring the moment, before finally pressing just a little closer, brushing the swollen flesh of your clit with the lightest of pressures. You sucked in a breath, your hips instinctively shifting slightly beneath him, a soft moan escaping your lips.

Still, he held back, his fingers circling just around the edges of your core, coaxing a low, needy sound from you before slowly dipping lower, teasing the entrance to your pussy with a gentle pressure. “Oh,” you whispered, your voice tinged with both longing and relief,

“Please.”

He gave a gentle squeeze to your hip before slowly deepening his touch, his fingers finally brushing against the slick, sensitive folds of your cunt. You twitched slightly against him, your hands instinctively clutching at the sheets as the waves of pleasure began to build within you. But he moved with care, his touch both tender and deliberate, as though he were discovering every inch of you for the first time.

As his fingers worked their way deeper into your wet walls, your moans grew louder, more uninhibited, the sound of your pleasure filling the room. He hummed softly in response, his voice a low vibration against your ear as he praised you with quiet endearments, coaxing you further into the pleasure he was building within you.

You lay there, your body bathed in a wave of sensations as Sylus’s fingers moved inside you, each thrust echoing with a precision that left you gasping for air. At first, it was gentle, a slow, teasing rhythm that coaxed a moan from your lips. Then, as the pressure increased, his fingers curved just right, hitting the sweet spot inside you that made your entire body shiver with pleasure. Your hips bucked involuntarily, your nails digging into the sheets as you fought to hold onto control.

“You’re about to cum already?” he whispered, his voice low and triumphant. You could feel his smirk against your skin as he pressed harder, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit with skillful precision. “You want it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “Please, I’m about to—”

He pulled back just enough to make you whimper in frustration, his fingers hovering just at the edge of withdrawal before thrusting back in with renewed force. “Tell me how sorry you are,” he demanded, his voice a mixture of dominance and affection that made your heart race. “Beg me, sweetie.”

At first you froze, feeling heat rise to your cheeks out of embarrassment, but when he fully began to pull his fingers away all reason flew out of your mind.

You were so close.

The words tumbled out of you before you could stop them, a desperate, breathless plea that echoed the raw emotion in your chest. “I’m sorry! Please, I’m sorry!”

He chuckled, the sound a low, gravelly vibration that sent shivers down your spine. “Good girl,” he murmured, his fingers finding that spot again, the pressure building to a point where you could barely think straight.

“Yes,” you whispered, your eyes squeezing shut as the aching burn in your core was tipping to its breaking point. “Please—just let me—”

But before you could finish the sentence, he pulled his fingers out entirely, leaving you trembling and unsatisfied, gasping for air as though you’d been deprived of oxygen. The abrupt withdrawal was almost as intense as the climax you’d been on the brink of, a cruel twist that left you feeling both frustrated and conflicted.

You turned to face him, your voice shaking with a mix of shock and disbelief. “W-what? I was right there! I did what you asked!”

He met your gaze steadily, his expression soft but unyielding. His eyes didn’t carry malice—there was no fire, no wrath—just a firm, patient certainty that made your skin prickle and your breath catch in your throat. The kind of quiet control that left no room for bargaining.

“I never said I'd let you even if you begged,” he said, the words rolling from his tongue in a tone so calm it only made the weight of them settle heavier in your chest. It was gentle, yes, but it carried the undeniable finality of someone who’d already made up their mind. "Did you honestly think I’d let you finish after a stunt like that?”

The way he said it, like he was almost surprised by your audacity, twisted your stomach. Not furious. Just disappointed. And that somehow hurt worse.

His tone didn’t rise. It never did. But that only made it worse—the fact that he could cut through your resistance with something as simple as stillness. The gravity in his voice hit harder than any belt, any reprimand. It made your throat tighten, your thoughts spin.

You were in shock.

Your body was still trembling, the aftershocks of denied ecstasy crashing through your nerves like static. You felt strung out, your limbs heavy, your skin flushed and oversensitive. Your muscles still twitched with that last wave of almost-release that had been ripped from you too soon.

It had been there. Right there. You had been on the edge—dangling. And he had pulled you back with terrifying precision.

No release.

No relief.

Just silence. And now, this still, crushing reminder of who held the reins.

Tears gathered in your lashes, fat and hot. You blinked rapidly, your lips trembling as you lifted your gaze to him. Your voice cracked as you spoke, brittle and hoarse from all the cries that had come before.

“P-please…” you whispered, reaching for him with fingers that barely had the strength to curl. “I said I was sorry. Sylus, please...”

Your voice broke halfway through his name, and the desperation behind it made your chest ache.

"Shh. Don’t whine," he murmured, his voice low and even, the kind of calm that wrapped around you like a heavy blanket—firm, enveloping, unshakable.

You hiccupped softly, your body still twitching with the lingering aftershocks, shivering from unsatisfaction, exhaustion, and the quiet vulnerability that always came after something so intense. Your limbs felt heavy and loose, barely responding as you shifted weakly against the sheets. Tears clung to your lashes, your cheeks damp and flushed. You let out a small, broken protest, the sound almost childish in its fragility.

But Sylus didn’t pause. He moved with deliberate care, like he’d done this a hundred times, like every movement was etched into him. Without saying another word, he crossed the room, retrieved a warm cloth, and returned to your side. You barely registered the soft sound of water dripping onto the towel or the way the mattress dipped as he sat beside you again.

The first touch made you flinch despite yourself. The cloth dragged over your sensitive, slightly bruised skin with a heat that was both soothing and startling. You whimpered, your hips twitching away on instinct, but he didn’t scold you. He simply placed a hand gently on your back, the silent reminder enough to still you.

"Starting today, until all your packages arrive," he continued, his tone calm yet authoritative, "I'm still going to kiss you, touch you, make you feel good. But you can't cum." His fingers paused for a moment, the weight of his words settling between you. "If you do cum before you have my permission, this whole process starts over, including the belt. No masturbating either. I'll know. Understood?"

The simple act of him speaking while wiping between your legs sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching as you nodded, the gravity of his words sinking in. You felt the tension in your body, the way your muscles clenched involuntarily at the mere thought of being so close to climax only to have it taken away.

"Yes, Sy..." you whispered, voice cracking as it escaped your lips. You wanted to be mad. You wanted to scream, to shove at his chest, to demand why he was always one step ahead—but you couldn’t. The exhaustion in your limbs, the ache deep in your chest, and the rawness still lingering on your skin left you too hollow, too wrung out to fight. All that fire had dissolved into a pitiful, quiet ache, leaking from your eyes in soft, steady tears.

All you could do was cry. You had brought this on yourself.

Sylus didn’t say anything. He didn’t gloat or taunt. He just kept tending to you with that same deliberate, practiced care. His movements were slow, methodical, gentle in ways that made your chest ache even more. When he was done, he discarded the damp cloth and reached for you again, easing the rumpled slip dress over your head. The fabric peeled away from your flushed skin, clinging slightly before sliding off, leaving you cold, exposed, and vulnerable.

You whimpered, the sound soft and unsure, but he was already moving with purpose. He retrieved one of his shirts—oversized, warm, smelling of him—and a fresh pair of underwear. With all the patience in the world, he dressed you like you were something fragile, helping you into the shirt and smoothing it down, adjusting the sleeves and gently guiding your legs into the underwear. The motions were intimate, familiar, but not rushed. As though this was part of the ritual. As though he’d already known this was how the night would end.

Then he slipped away into the bathroom for a moment, and you lay there quietly, the bedsheets cool beneath you, your limbs too heavy to move. The room felt softer now, dim and hushed, like the storm had passed. Your eyes fluttered closed, though sleep didn’t come. Just more tears.

When Sylus returned, the mattress dipped beside you. He settled in close, his warmth immediately surrounding you, and without a word, he reached over and began wiping the fresh tears from your face. His thumb brushed slowly under each eye, lingering at your cheekbones, soft and unrelenting. You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry, your body aching in more ways than one.

He didn’t need to say anything. His touch said it for him: I still love you. I’m still here.

Then he picked up your phone from the nightstand, unlocking it like it was second nature. You peeked at him from the crook of your arm, face still pressed into his chest, and listened to the familiar taps as he scrolled.

Probably checking the damage, you thought bitterly.

Then came the chuckle. Soft. Low. Amused.

"Oh, sucks for you. One of these is on preorder," he said, tone light, like he wasn’t the reason you were too emotionally wrecked to argue. "Won’t get here for a few weeks. What a shame."

You groaned into his chest, letting your body sag against him like you were boneless. You didn’t need to look up to see the smug grin on his face—you could feel it in the rumble of his chest, the way his fingers casually stroked your back like you were some satisfied little cat.

He had won. Again.

There was no fighting it. No regaining the upper hand. Not now. Not when he’d read you like a book and written the ending before you even knew the chapter had started.

And now, one of the pieces you were most excited for was going to take weeks to arrive.

It was going to be a very, very long few weeks.

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sad--tree · 1 year ago

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i need..... 2 rewatch..... shallow grave....... posthaste......

#also trainspotting. & pride & prejudice. & bbc narnia series. & hellraiser. & narnia movie once friend is recovered enough 2 watch it w/ me #but also i need 2 Go The Fucketh To Sleep #bc i work tmrw 💀#WHY dud i think it was a hood idea 2 work mondays and tuesdays too.....#surely i was better off rotting in bed at home all day doing absolutely nothing and feeling awful for and because of it. right? right??#hngnhhngg 6am is such an early start time too..... but 2:30 is an EXCELLENT time 2 get off work so. its fine. ig.#I JUST WANNA WATCH STUFF. AND BE ABLE TO FOCUS DURING IT (a very rare occurrence 4 me of late...)#cant wait 2 run out of my concerta in <2 weeks b4 having to wait 3 (unmedicated) weeks to get my mcfucking prescription renewed.#and im not even sure my current dose is adequate anymore!!! but i dont wanna pay even more for a higher one!!!#running out of one drug. not taking another (oops. idk why im like this). soon gonna be me n my antidepressant against the world #im so doomed #(im not convinced its actually. doing anything. is my point)

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margotw10bis · 11 months ago

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Better Than Him.JJK [m]

roommate!Jungkook x reader

Genre: fake-dating; romance; smut; one-shot

Words: 19.6k (oops)

Synopsis: When your boyfriend cheats on you and decides to bring his lover to the wedding you invited him to, you take vengeance by pretending you have a new boyfriend: your hot roommate.

Warnings: broken heart; cheating; alcohol consumption; huge sexual tension between those 2 idiots; voyeurism?; masturbating; fingering; bigdick!jk; protected sex

You should have known. The signs were there but you chose to look the other way. Now, you have to face the consequences of your willful blindness.

Because now, there is no "look the other way" option when your boyfriend is standing in front of you and is breaking up with you.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He has already explained the reason but while your ears can identify the sounds coming from his mouth, your brain, on the other hand, has absolutely no idea how to make sense of the words forming the sentences.

Even if Taehyung has a huge craving of rolling his eyes, he doesn't and repeats himself again — he can't really act angered when he is ending a one-year relationship.

"I want to break up with you because I met someone"

The explanation is clear, straightforward, but so raw. Just as Taehyung didn't care about hurting you or that he never actually cared about you.

"Do I know her?"

You don't know why you want to torture yourself even more because you don't want to picture him with someone else. You don't want to picture the woman in his arms, on his lips, underneath him. But you have to be a little masochist because you still ask.

"Does it matter?" Taehyung sighs

It doesn't but maybe you have a faint hope that you're better than her. That he is so wrong about choosing someone over you.

"I deserve to know, don't you think?" Your tone is more hurt than aggressive

"Siyeon" He says after a long pause

Your heart drops instantly.

Siyeon.

The woman Taehyung has been teamed up with for a few months. The woman he told you not to worry about. The woman you saw in his apartment one month ago but he pretended it was a "professional meeting".

You were so dumb to believe it because who the hell have professional meetings at their home at nine pm with a good bottle of wine and candles?! You were so hurt that you denied the truth. Maybe you thought that catching them together would make Taehyung realize that what he was doing was wrong.

You didn't think that he would actually realize that you were the wrong one for him.

Ever since you saw her, you have been insecure because she is gorgeous. More than that, she is confident — something you know you lack and something you know Taehyung absolutely loves.

You feel humiliated. You'll have to explain to your friends why Taehyung is not in the picture anymore and it hurts. Everyone will know what happened. That you weren't enough for him. That he chose another woman over you.

"Now that you know it's Siyeon, you should also know that I'll go to Namjoon's wedding with her" He adds

What?!

That is mean. So fucking mean. Namjoon invited you at his wedding and Taehyung was your +1. And now he is going to the wedding you invited him with another woman, the woman he cheated on you with?!

You can't take it anymore. You want to strangle him and yell at him. You want to find the most painful words ever just for him to feel a third of your pain. But nothing comes to your mind and you only can stay pathetically quiet as the man you thought was the love of your life walks away with your broken heart.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

Usually, when you come home, you feel soothed. Mainly because you rarely come home to an empty apartment.

After graduating from college, you were like many of your fellows: optimistic about the future but broke. Finding a job took more time than you expected and it was impossible for you to pay a whole rent by yourself if you didn't want to live in a very tiny studio — Seoul has a lot of great qualities but cheap real estate is not one of them. Sharing an apartment became your only option and you spent a few weeks looking for the perfect roommate. Until you found Jeon Jungkook.

To be honest, you didn't want to share an apartment with a man — for all kind of reasons, the main one being that you didn't feel comfortable showing your intimacy to a male stranger. However, as you saw Jungkook's notice, you fell in love with the place. It was luminous, nicely decorated, in a great neighborhood and the two bedrooms were very spacious. With a little apprehension, you met Jungkook so he could show you around your maybe-future-place, and it was even greater than on the ad.

Moreover, Jungkook was sweet and smiling. Very welcoming and you immediately felt comfortable with him. You didn't think twice before signing the lease. You even stayed after saving enough money to have a place on your own.

It's reassuring to live with someone like Jungkook. First of all, he cooks so well. Then, you can always ask him to help you change a lightbulb or refill your car oil. And, most important, he always comforts you when you feel down. He does so much for you that you sometimes wonder what you bring to him...

Yet, you are praying every gods for him to be absent as you're opening the front door. Naturally, it's not your lucky day so he watches you stepping inside with traces of mascara on your cheeks. For once, you wished he was with one of his hookups — it's not something he does much but he is enough of a gentlemen to have sex at the girl's place not to bother you. You have to admit that you didn't take as many precautions as him and you have no doubt he has heard you having sex with your (ex)boyfriend...

"What's going on? Are you okay?" He runs toward you with a panicked face

You blink the new tears away and mumble something like "don't wanna talk about it" before escaping to your shared bathroom. As you look in the mirror, you understand why Jungkook was so worried as he saw you: you look absolutely terrible. Yeah, your makeup is ruined but it's mainly your devastating expression that is obvious.

It's exactly the kind of things you want to avoid when you have to go to a wedding in five days...

The wedding.

Should you go? You're definitely not in the mood. Plus you don't have a date anymore. Plus your former date is going with someone else. Plus that someone else is the woman he cheated on you with. Isn't it the definition of a shitty life?

All of your friends will look at you with pity and you don't want that. You would very much prefer to stay at home and cry over your broken heart with a good vanilla ice cream.

On the other hand, you like Namjoon a lot. He is so great, one of your closest friends. And Tzuyu has become your friend too, she is the sweetest person ever. This day is so important for them and you can't be selfish enough not to go and be by their side. When you spot things this way, being the laughing stock of the party is not dramatic.

And you still have a few days to think about it. You know that your emotions are all over the place so you just have to take a good and hot shower, try to apply some ointment on your poor heart and convince yourself that going to this wedding is a good idea and your only option.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

Your heart and your brain are not friends anymore.

The whole night you've been through pros and cons of going to the wedding. Your brain strongly defended the pros while your heart advocated the cons.

To be honest, your heart was really convincing, spotting that it's too soon to meet your ex again (and it could be the case for any kind of break-ups), that you're too hurt and fragile right now to face the cheater and his mistress and that you'll have to deal with the humiliation in front of all your friends. So yeah, listening to your heart, you shouldn't attend the wedding.

But your brain had good arguments too. First of all, Namjoon. He was there when, in your second year of college, you couldn't find any place to live. He generously offered his couch for all long as you needed, even though you weren't this close to him in the past because you didn't share any class — a normal thing considering you were a sophomore and he was a senior — and your only bound back then was the Newspaper of the University Club. Then, your brain reminded you that this wedding was more than just that: it was a whole trip with your friends. Namjoon, a well-known romantic, booked a hotel on a beach in a haven of greenery in the Philippines. For a whole weekend, you'll get to enjoy yourself on the beach with delicious cocktails made from fresh-cut fruits, and you'll be able to go the spa of the luxurious hotel. It's an appealing program to be true.

But the argument that convinced you was that Taehyung doesn't deserve to have such an impact on you. He doesn't deserve your tears or any kind of thought or attention. You should do what you want and you have nothing to feel ashamed of. He is the one sporting the shame with his actions.

That is why you're feeling a little lighter the next morning when you head to the kitchen in quest of a warm coffee. You're a little surprised to see Jungkook since he usually goes to the gym at this time "to avoid the crowd and focus on the right moves” — quoting. But he hasn't gone to the gym.

He is leaning against the countertop, his arms crossed on his chest — you try your best not to look at the way his biceps are brought out under his large grey t-shirt — and his black hair is messy. But what catches your attention is his tired face. It looks like he hasn't got any sleep last night and his big cup of coffee almost finished doesn't seem to help.

"Good morning" You greet but you wince at your hoarse voice due to your late crying

"Morning" Jungkook waits a few seconds, watching you fill your own mug with the brown liquid "Do you want to tell me what happened? I'm worried about you"

You sigh and your heart squeezes a little — not because of Taehyung this time but because the lack of sleep of Jungkook might have been caused by you.

"Tae cheated on me and then broke up with me"

A sarcastic chuckle escapes your mouth. When you present things like that, you feel ridiculous to even cry over him. You're pathetic and yet, how can you stop loving someone in just one night? You love Taehyung, you have been for a year.

"Y/N..." Jungkook tries to comfort you but he doesn't quite know what to say

You feel it and give him a faint smile when his big palm gently squeezes your shoulder.

"I'll be okay" You promise him and yourself "If I survive Namjoon's wedding, I'll be okay"

You notice the frown on Jungkook's face.

"What do you mean?" He asks

"He is going with..." You can't bring yourself to say her name, it's still too painful "Her"

You don't have to detail, it's clear enough.

Jungkook tenses and a big wave of anger builds inside him.

"The hell?!" He exclaims "He is such a asshole! He has been invited because of you! And now he is going with another woman?!"

It's exactly what you've spent the night telling to yourself and somehow, it's soothing to have someone by your side. Jungkook has the angry side of your pain and it's comforting. You know he won't belittle your feelings or your pain.

"I swear, I can punch the guy, Y/N" He offers

He looks so serious but it's so out of character for him to choose violence. Despite the numerous hours of box training, Jungkook has never fought someone — that you know of at least. You can't help a laugh at his hero behavior. 'Gosh, he is so precious' You think to yourself.

"You won't punch him. And I won't punch him either. I will just go, enjoy this weekend with my friends and show him that I'm completely okay without him"

"You're sure?" He asks, a little worried

You nod and give him a side hug to enhance your answer.

"I'm here for you" He whispers in your hair before pecking the top of your head

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

Plans have changed.

You clack the front door with wrath as you enter your apartment, shaking the whole wall, and growl when you take off your shoes. You make them fly around you without too much care.

All this noise attracts Jungkook and his eyes widen when he sees you throwing your bag across the room, hitting a lamp that falls on the floor and breaks. Tears of burning anger roll down your cheeks and your heart is pounding so loud in your ears that you haven't heard your roommate approaching.

"Hey, Y/N, what happened?" He gently questions, trying to guess how to act

It's the first time he witnesses your anger. Usually, you sport your disappointed face — a frown and pouty lips. Just like this one time when Jungkook ate the cake you baked for one of your friends' baby shower. Or when he broke your very expensive moisturizer in the bathroom. But you never yelled or appeared angry at him. He is not even sure you've ever raised your voice at someone. You're the kind of person who chooses dialogue to ease conflicts and always tries to see the others' point of view.

But right now, you look like at tornado of furiousness and Jungkook is quite taken aback.

"I swear, I'm going to kill him!" You scream

You really want to punch something, anything. You are so fucking mad. You've never felt like this before and your shaking body due to adrenaline is very well noticeable by Jungkook. He is afraid you'll have a heart attack.

"Are you talking about Taehyung?" Your roommate asks with caution

"This little... shit!" You yell

Jungkook's mouth falls open. Okay, the situation is damn serious because you never ever curse, let alone insult someone. He doesn't even know how to calm you down and he is sure that you could punch him right now — not that he can't defend himself but he would rather much avoid the fury of your delicate fists at the moment.

"He said I cheated! Can you believe it?! I cheated!"

Now, Jungkook understands why you're so angry. He would be just the same in your shoe. God, he is mad right now.

"He said to Namjoon that he would attend the wedding with her for moral support! I can't even believe it!"

Your voice has slowly changed from wrath to hurt and your screams shifted into sobbing. You're a mess. And your heart has broken a second time after Namjoon's call. Sure, your friend didn't believe your ex and he was worried about you. But still, Taehyung said that and you're sure that he has been saying his little story lie to everyone.

"Let me punch him" Jungkook begs, ready to defend your honor

"I wish but it won't be enough" You cry "I want to make him pay. I want to make him feel like the looser he is. Gosh, I want him to think that I actually cheated"

Your brain is going to all kinds of directions, trying to find a way to take revenge. Until your watery eyes land on Jungkook.

Jungkook. Hot, handsome roommate. Great at everything. Completely at the opposite of Taehyung with his tattooed arm, lip ring and brawny body. He is the embodiment of sexiness. And you know that your ex has always been jealous of him. You clearly remember a conversation you've forgotten for a long time.

"You're sure nothing happened between you and your roommate?" Taehyung asked

“Who, Jungkook?” The idea seems so ridiculous to you that you can’t help but giggle “Yes, I'm sure. He is my friend and I don't think we'll ever see each other other than that" You answered, way too in love with your new boyfriend to even look at another man — even if the said man is a sexy roommate who isn't afraid to walk around shirtless

"I have to say that I don't quite like the idea of you living with him" Taehyung pouted

"Why?" You squeezed his cheeks to tease him

"He looks at you funny sometimes"

"You're imagining things, Taetae" You reassured him "We've been roommates for three years. If we wanted things to happen between us, it would have already happened"

"Come to the wedding with me"

Jungkook is looking at you as if you were crazy. Well, you understand. You just came home furious, then bursted into cries and now you have a new, strong determination with fire in your glossy eyes.

“I—"

But you cut him off.

"Pretend you're my boyfriend"

"What?!" Jungkook exclaims, his doe eyes having doubled in size

"Taehyung has always been jealous of you. If you come with me and we say we're together, I'm sure he'll be mad. He'll think I've cheated for real" You explain

You know you sound crazy but you're too angry and too hurt to reason. You just want give Taehyung a taste of his own medicine. It's not fair to Jungkook because he has nothing to do with this whole messed up situation but he is the only one who can help you.

"Don't you think it'll create more drama?" Jungkook points out

He is not wrong but the risks are nothing compared to your willing of revenge.

"Maybe for him" You concede "But I'm sick of his behavior. He can't cheat, break my heart and act like I'm the villain. This is my friends' wedding and Taehyung is doing everything he can to ruin that for me. I just want to be with my friends and enjoy a nice weekend. For that, I need an ally. I need you. Please, Jungkook. We'll just have to hold hands, dance together and it'll be it. And there is a great gym at the hotel, I saw it on the website”

You’re looking at him with those puppy eyes that your roommate can’t resist. It’s an unfair fight, he knows it. He’ll never win against you and he would do pretty much everything you’d ask right now if it means it’ll heal your broken heart.

Jungkook sighs. Fuck, you know him way too well for his sake. You didn't have to present the gym part, he would already say yes when you ask him to come with you the first time. To be honest, Jungkook has never really liked your ex. He found him too arrogant and a little bit mean with you sometimes. If Jungkook can be there to protect you and help you to get back at him, he is down for it. Spending time with his roommate in another scenery than your shared flat or the grocery store is just the icing on the cake.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

Step 1 of "Getting back at Taehyung" plan — or "Making him realize that he is a complete asshole and you're too good for him" as Jungkook calls it— starts straight when you reach Incheon International Airport. Your closest friends are here — plus Taehyung and Siyeon — since you've planned to fly together in order to start the celebration weekend right after work. You were lucky enough to find a plane ticket for Jungkook last minute and you had to battle with him to pay — he conceded but promised to pay for the room in exchange.

Only Namjoon and his future wife, Tzuyu, were informed of your new 'date'. That explains the surprised look on your friends' faces and the pure hate on Taehyung's one. You gloat at his reaction, especially at his frown when he sees Jungkook taking care of your both luggages when Taehyung hasn't even thought about helping Siyeon.

"I'm so glad you made it" Hoseok welcomes you with a hug

"Of course, I couldn't miss Joon and Tzuyu’s wedding!"

You greet your friends, carefully avoiding Taehyung and his date, and decide to tease him a little when you introduce Jungkook — something that is absolutely not necessary because they have all seen him already during some hangings out at your place.

"I didn't know there was room for roommates on this trip" Taehyung mumbles

If the others chose to ignore him, Jungkook doesn't. A smirk paints his face and he scoots closer to you, circling your waist with his strong arm in a possessive manner.

"There isn't. But there's room for boyfriends, right love?"

Your cheeks immediately burn. You knew that you'll have to play a role but you didn't expect Jungkook to be this good at it. You're not good at pet names. Most of the times, you called Taehyung by his name or "Taetae" but the words "baby", "honey" or whatsoever have never crossed your lips. You always feel too shy to use them but you guess that the whole point of this is actually to give Jungkook everything you didn't give to Taehyung — honestly, it's not like he's ever deserved it while Jungkook might. Just to show him that he can't compete with your roommate.

"True, baby"

You pat yourself for not stuttering and Jungkook sees your efforts too so he gives you a kiss on your cheek. If he meant to soothe you, it does the exact opposite since you've never been comfortable at being physically affectionate in public.

This little warm up at pretending dating turns freezing when Taehyung turns around to kiss Siyeon on the lips. A bitter taste fills your mouth as you know that he has done it several times when you were still together. Does he like kissing her more than you? This kind of thoughts shouldn't affect you but it does...

"Come on, let's get through security" Jungkook whispers in your ear as he has witnessed the same gesture

You nod and keep your head low in order to hide your pained expression. You're happy Jungkook is with you because he takes care of everything. You just have to follow his instructions and concentrate on not crying in front of everyone.

Thankfully, Jungkook and you are seated a few rows before your ex so you don't have to watch their lovely interactions. And your roommate helps you forget the kiss by reminding you that the whole point of this plan is to show Taehyung that you don't care about him. Jungkook makes sure to choose one of the movies you like on the seat screen and shares his earphones with you.

You wrap your arm around his and rest your head on his shoulder, laughing at the most ridiculous scenes. You don't even acknowledge Taehyung passing by to reach the restrooms. However, the two men share a glance full of male tension. Jungkook watches with a proud smirk Taehyung's jaws clenching and decides to push a little further: he settles his hand on your thigh. As a man, he knows damn well that he would be pissed if the guy he always suspected his girlfriend to have a thing with did that. Jungkook can see in Taehyung's eyes that he suspects him to have touched you like that in the past — the past during which you were a couple and during which he cheated on you.

But this little game is not that important for Jungkook. He prefers giving his attention to you and watches you laugh with a way more tender smile. He hopes that you'll be as happy during the weekend. As least, he'll do his best for it.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

This hotel is even better than on the photos. It's surrounded by the forest and the beach. There is even a beautiful waterfall nearby. All the walls are made of wood and classic glass windows are replaced by big openings, giving the illusion of being in the nature. It's magical and romantic, which means that it's perfect for a wedding.

Your eyes shine in front of the beauty of your location.

"It's amazing" You say to Jungkook, tugging on his t-shirt sleeve for him to look at the view

You squeak in excitement when a monkey appears in front of you, flying from branch to branch. Jungkook points at a tree, a little further, and you notice the gorgeous white flowers on it. You're not good at botanic but you think it might be a magnolia tree. It's the biggest one you've even seen. You are so glad to share that with your roommate because you know that Jungkook loves it just as much as you do.

"Gosh, Y/N, thank you so much for inviting me" He thanks you

You shake your head.

"Thank you for coming. And I'm sorry you had to cancel some of your customers appointments"

"That's okay, I can reschedule" He reassures you — you guess that it's one of the advantages of having his own tattoo shop — and guides you to the reception

Everyone takes their key and you don't miss Taehyung's upset eye when he notices that you and Jungkook only have one key, which means one room.

And the said room is just as perfect as the rest of the hotel. Wood is everywhere and the rest of the fabrics — bedsheets, curtains, towels — are white. If you had to picture heaven, it'd be it. It's perfect.

The bedroom is spacious, giving enough place for a king size bed, a wardrobe, a large TV and two comfortable white sofas. You explore a little more your room for the weekend until you reach the bathroom. Same wood everywhere with a large walking shower. Perfect. It's so beautiful you could cry.

"I don't want to leave. Can't we just move here?" You ask Jungkook, making him chuckle

"Don't tempt me, I might say yes"

You realize that for the first time since your break up you don't feel in absolute pain. You actually feel good. You don't want to be anywhere else right now. And deep down, you know that Jungkook is partly responsible for that.

After a quick drop at your rooms to change into swimsuits, Namjoon has proposed to walk around to enjoy the beautiful nature surrounding the hotel. Of course, you asked Jungkook if it was okay for him or if he preferred going to the gym. You don't want to impose him any activity because he has been kind enough to accept this whole fake-dating thing. However, he stated that he wanted to see your surroundings and he doesn't regret one bit.

It's beautiful. Tall trees frame the narrow path to the waterfall. The sound of the water, the birds and the faint breeze in the leaves are magical. The little lake created by the waterfall seems to come from a fairy tail.

Jungkook stays close to you, playing his boyfriend role perfectly. He urges you to be careful and holds your hand. You clearly feel Taehyung's eyes burning your back but you do your best to ignore it, especially when Siyeon wears the smallest and more translucent dress ever. You wonder if Taehyung actually likes this style because it's surely not yours — the proof being that you've opted for denim shorts and an oversized t-shirt.

When you are right next to the lake, you throw an eye at your 'boyfriend' but you gulp when you spot the playfulness in his doe eyes. You immediately understand what's going on in his childish brain and you point a warning finger at him.

"I swear to god, Jungkook, if you do that..."

"Do what, baby?" He replies, with a faked innocence

That's vicious because the pet name takes you aback and you don't have time to react. Jungkook slyly wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up, making your squeak. He is walking dangerously straight to the water so you secure your legs around his torso, just prevent him from acting upon his idea.

"Don't you dare!" You threaten him

"You said you wanted to go for a swim" He teases, pretending to drop you but immediately holds you tighter

"Jungkook!" You scream, burring your face in the crook of his neck

His airy laugh is contagious. You're happy he's happy. You were afraid this weekend would be an absolutely chore for him but he actually seems to enjoy it.

"Look at me" He says softly

You look at his shiny doe eyes. They've never been so pretty. To be honest, everything in Jungkook is pretty. And his wide grin is to die for. He has the most beautiful smile in the whole world.

His inked hand goes up to your face and you're surprised by the tenderness of his thumb brushing your cheek. Honestly, if you didn't know that you're fake-dating, you would be completely in love. But maybe your weak heart shouldn't react as much... It certainly a side-effect of having your heart broken by your cheating boyfriend and not at all because Jungkook is kind and handsome and sexy and everything that describes 'perfect'.

"I won't let you down" He swears and seals his promise with a kiss on your forehead before putting you down carefully

However, your little bubble explodes with your ex's annoyed and annoying voice. And you understand that Jungkook just put on a show because Taehyung was there. You put far, far, far away the feeling of disappointment.

"Can we go to the beach now? Everyone is waiting for you" Taehyung growls

You shrug your shoulders while you pass by him and Siyeon, not forgetting to grab your roommate's hand.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

Would you dare to say that the beach is even prettier than the tropical forest? Yes. The white and soft sand underneath your feet is warm and comforting. And the sea is painted in a turquoise color. It's official: you want to move here.

You don't resist anymore and you are quick to take off your shorts and t-shirt to jump in the water. Soon enough, your friends join you but you see no sign of Jungkook. Your eyes scan the shore and you almost choke.

Jungkook has taken his Hawaiian shirt off and his perfect chest is on full display. Gosh, he is hot. You take advantage of being away enough to ogle him. Your eyes lick his defined abs and pecs, then his strong biceps, especially the one covered by ink, and finish with his large thighs. You internally curse at his orange swimsuit.

"You've found yourself a great specimen" Tzuyu teases you, wiggling her eyebrows

You laugh it off but your red cheeks speak for themselves. You can't deny that you are flushed by the view of your 'boyfriend'.

You're not the only one to blush at this fine man: you can see some other female tourists whispering, certainly wondering if they should go talk to him. But they don't have time to make a decision since Jungkook walks to the water and skillfully swims to you. You didn't know that swimming could be sexy...

You quickly put your head underwater in order to get rid off your blushed cheeks but you're not sure it works. When you emerge, Jungkook is standing right in front of you with his handsome bunny smile.

"Come here" He urges you softly

Even though the water is too deep for you to plant your feet on the ground, it's not the case for Jungkook who can easily grab your waist and hug you. Automatically, you wrap your legs around his torso and your arms around his neck. You still have in mind your fake-dating plan and cuddling in the warm ocean sets the perfect scenery to play your roles.

You push his black wet hair back and use your 'girlfriend card' to admire his handsome face. Jungkook seems to glow with the drops glistening in the sun.

You swear, your roommate has decided to kill you because he attacks you with cuteness when he softly brushes his bubble nose against yours, making you both giggle.

"They're too cute together" Tzuyu beams, hugging her future husband

You've known Namjoon longer than her but she has become a true friend. She is always nice with you and supports you the same way your friend does. You're so happy for them to have found each other because they're perfect together — even though you're a bit jealous of their love right now.

You want to thank her but as you open your mouth, you're interrupted by none other than Taehyung, in his grumpy mood.

"Who wants to play volleyball?" Your ex asks, a little louder than necessary just to bother you

You roll your eyes, scoot a little away but still stay in Jungkook's strong arms. You know that if Taehyung has proposed volleyball is not mundane but it's because he is quite good at it. He used to play in high school and it might be the only sport he can beat Jungkook at. But he surely bets on your roommate's competitiveness to lure him into his trap.

However, Jungkook refuses — which surprises both you and your ex.

"Nah, thanks. I just want to enjoy some time with my girl"

Namjoon, Hoseok and his girlfriend, and Taehyung join the beach to prep the game. The rest of your group floats around in the water or intend to swim to the yellow buoy.

"You're sure you don't want to play?" You ask

"Yeah, I'm sure" He reassures you and then bends over to whisper in yours ear "Taehyung is so mad right now, he keeps throwing stares at us. Is it okay if I kiss your neck?"

Your heart skips a bit and you nod, bitting your lower lip. It's suddenly very hot and it has nothing to do with the bright sun above you. You can feel your heart pounding with anticipation and you wonder if Jungkook can see the pulsations on your throat.

Jungkook's lips are soft, sending shivers down your spine when they slightly brush against your skin. The coldness of his lip ring contrasts with his hot breathe. You don't know what's got into you but you press him tighter against you and arch your back. Jungkook lands a first kiss to taste waters, then a second one, then a third one — more heated this time. You just wish he never stops and you don't know why you're feeling like that: it's not the first time someone touches you, even if it feels like it.

You close your eyes as you're trying your best not to moan but it's very hard to do when your fake boyfriend starts sucking on your skin. You have no doubt he can feel your pulse with his lips. His teeth gently bite the new mark before his tongue licks it to soothe the pain. You're very thankful that the ocean covers your hard nipples and that your wetness is indiscernible because one thing is sure: you’re aroused.

Jungkook takes the time to admire his work. It might be one of the prettiest hickeys he's ever made and he has to admit that the purple mark suits you so well.

"Perfect" He states, more to himself than to you, and he licks his lips

When you open your eyes again, they land on Siyeon. She has clearly watched your interaction and you suddenly feel embarrassed. Sure, it was meant to be a show but weirdly, you would have wished this intimate moment to stay well, intimate.

An unpleasant shiver runs through your body at her death stare. You should be the one to hate her — she stole your man for god's sake! — and you don't understand why she acts so cold towards you. Not that you're willing to befriend with her but still...

"You're cold?" Jungkook asks

You use it as an excuse to run away — or swim away — from Siyeon and her piercing eyes. You have the distasteful instinct that she has read right through Jungkook's and your lie.

You expected Jungkook to put you down but he actually walks to the shore with you in his arms, holding you tighter as the water levels down on your body. You hug him like a koala and Jungkook smiles softly at the image.

It's only when you are by your stuff that your fake boyfriend lets you feel the ground underneath your feet. He hands you your towel and helps you dry yourself. The gestures are sweet and you wonder if Jungkook is like that when he is in a real relationship or if he just plays his role.

He scrubs his wet hair with his own towel at a rapid pace, shaking his muscles right in front of you. You gulp and look the other way. Just like he wasn't an absolute tease, Jungkook lays on his towel to enjoy the sun. However, you notice his blushed cheeks and you know that a sunburn is close.

"You should apply sun protection" You advise

You thought that he would battle with you — it was usual with Taehyung as your ex-boyfriend often complained that you were babying him — but he doesn't and wastes no time to apply sun screen on his arms, legs, chest and face. You can't only chuckle when he turns white because of the dramatic amount he has put on.

"Can you help me with the back, please?"

"Of course, turn around"

Facing his large back is easier because Jungkook can't see how much you're blushing. You make sure to cover every inch of his skin, massaging his back lightly and insisting on his tattoos. You deny it but you take a little more time than needed just to enjoy his body under your fingertips.

When he turns around, Jungkook gives you his bunny smile with a scrunched nose and you know that many women have fallen under his charm. It's not that difficult to be honest.

"How about a game?" He asks with cheerfulness, holding his phone in his tattooed hand

You nod frenetically, so glad that Jungkook thinks about your habits as roommates. You feel like you both need it not to get too lost into your acting. You and him are used to spend evenings playing this stupid game on your phones, fighting for the win. You have to admit that Jungkook is really good at it but you know all of his technics now, resulting in stealing some victories from him.

You are both laying on your stomachs, typing like maniacs on your screens, gasping from time to time when the other kills one of your players. When you are taking the lead, Jungkook bumps your shoulder in order to distract you but you push him back and go further by typing haphazardly on his phone.

"Yah!" He yells, making you giggle

"Yes!" You exclaim as the victory is yours

"It wasn't fair!" Jungkook pouts and you poke your tongue out to taunt his sore loser side

However, Jungkook takes revenge by tickling you with no pity. You squeak and wiggle as much as you can to escape his devilish fingers but Jungkook's grip is strong. You're laughing so much that your tummy hurts and tears roll down your cheeks.

You don't really know how it happened but Jungkook is now above you. The intimate position stops the childish moment and the atmosphere swifts to something way hotter.

You might be imagining things but it looks like your roommate is staring at your lips. It even seems like he is getting closer. Is he going to kiss you? Oh gosh!

'Oh gosh!' because you want him to!

Your heart pounds and you try to calm down all the alarms in your brain screaming 'your sexy roommate is about to kiss you!' but the kiss never happens.

Because as Jungkook's appealing mouth is only a few inches away from yours, the volleyball hits his head with a comic 'boing' sound.

Furious, Jungkook's head snaps at the players and it's no surprise that Taehyung was the one who threw the ball.

"My bad!" He fakes to apologize

"The hell, man?!" Jungkook barks

You feel the tension between the two men, especially when Jungkook stands up, ready to throw punches. You grab his arm as you're trying to calm him down.

"Kook, it's okay" You say softly

"He could have hurt you!" He replies

"Don't worry, I aim good" Your ex mocks him, indirectly confessing that he did it on purpose — not that you had a doubt

Your roommate's fists clench and you're afraid all this thing doesn't end good. You sneak your hand in his, caressing the back of his hand to soothe him. It seems to work as Jungkook has stopped throwing death stares at Taehyung and is now looking at you.

"It's late anyway" You say "We should head to our room to get ready for dinner"

"Yeah, you're right" Jungkook concedes, eyeing Taehyung a last time as an idea lightens up his face "I can't wait to test this amazing shower with you, baby"

Poking his inner cheek with his tongue, Jungkook is clearly provoking Taehyung but it's so fucking sexy. Actually, you wouldn't mind testing that shower with him...

. ༶⋆˙⊹❀♡

"Oh my god!" You exclaim "You look really good!"

Your compliment paints a smile on your roommate's face but you have to say that he deserves it. As there is a casual diner for tonight — fancy events are reserved for the wedding tomorrow —Jungkook hasn't put a lot of efforts but he is great even, he always is. It's pretty rare you see him without his baggy clothes and yet, his skinny jeans and black shirt are perfect on him. It's like you get to finally see his musculature underneath the fabric.

Walking around at this man's arm is a boost for self-confidence, even though you had to try harder to look one third of his good-looking.

"You're great, too" He tells you, referring to your white calf-long shirt dress "Look, for tonight, I think we should get more... physical. It seems to really drive Taehyung mad"

"That's because I'm not very affectionate in public, it makes me feel embarrassed" You explain

"We don't have to" Jungkook reassures you "I don't want to make you uncomfortable"

"No, it's okay. I mean, isn't it the whole point of faking?"

"You're sure?" Jungkook asks with concern in his eyes

"Yeah, I'm sure" You nod, giving him a small smile

With a final nod from Jungkook, you both walk to the open restaurant. As you are getting closer, your fake boyfriend gets into his character, scooting closer to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. It's true that you are not used to public display of affection but, with Jungkook's warm body pressed against yours, it's not that bad. Maybe because you're playing a role too.

Unfortunately, you're the first ones to arrive... except from Taehyung and Siyeon already sat at your big table. The air isn't really friendly and you do your best to concentrate on the sophisticated table setting. There are huge magnolia flowers decorating the center and your fingers tickle to put them in your suitcase.

"What do you want to drink, love?"

Jungkook's question drifts away your attention. You're surprised not to have only reacted to his voice but also to the pet name and you know for a fact that it's dangerous for your heart.

As he has suggested earlier, he tugs a lock of hair behind your ear, taking the opportunity to caress your cheek. Instant blush and a dry throat take control of your body.

"I think I'll stick to wine tonight since we'll drink a lot tomorrow"

Jungkook nods, an impressed look on his face at your self-control. Now that he thinks about it, he has never seen you drunk. The few times you both drank alcohol, he clearly remembers that you had only one or two glasses. 'You are such the perfect girl for my parents', He thinks but it doesn't sound as ironical as he first imagined.

"What do you want?" You ask him, but also the two other persons around the table out of pure courtesy "I'm gonna order to the bar"

You just want to run away from your ex and the woman he cheated on you with, especially when they start kissing — in a very inappropriate way in public in your opinion.

"Two shots of vodka" Taehyung replies and you know that he does it on purpose

It wasn't rare that your ex wanted to have shots games, especially with vodka. However, you don't like shots games nor vodka. One day, mad and drunk, Taehyung called you 'no fun', spent the rest of the night with his friends and left you alone in that bar.

You try not to look affected and turn toward your supposed boyfriend.

"Like you said, we'll drink a lot tomorrow so just sparkling water for me. Thanks, baby"

Jungkook's smile puts some ointment to your wounded heart. Right as you stand up, he grabs your hand and pulls on it so your face is at the same level as his. You are both looking into each other's eyes and gosh, you love how shiny his black irises are.

For a second, you think that Jungkook is going to kiss you but at the very last second, his lips aim for your cheek, giving you a sweet peck. You don't know if your heart has stopped or beaten faster... Either way, you just need to hide your redden face.

You escape, exhaling a breath you didn't know you hold. You're a little worried about leaving your roommate alone with the evil couple but you also need time to get your head straight.

"So, how long have you been with Y/N?" Taehyung starts — this question has been on his mind ever since he saw two arriving together at the airport

"Not long" Jungkook answers with a deliberate vagueness, his tone nonchalant

Your ex scoffs, his anger rising slowly in his body. He can't believe that you cheated on him with your roommate! You told him so many times that nothing ever happened and would ever happen between you two and now, you're officially together. That can only mean one thing: you were together before Taehyung broke up with you.

"It's a big change for you, right?"

"What do you mean?" Your fake boyfriend asks with a frown, he really doesn't like your ex's tone

"Well, from what I've seen, you're a guy that likes having fun. Going out, hanging out with friends, partying and so on. It's not really something you can do with Y/N. Honestly, she's boring. But Siyeon, she is everything Y/N is not. Maybe Siyeon could introduce you to some of her friends, I mean, if you want to have fun"

Jungkook is seeing red. His fists clench as much as his jaws but punching Taehyung right now won't do any good. He can't believe that your ex is such a dick.

"Y/N is fun" He bites back "When you want to settle for good and start a future, you don't need to party every weekends. Y/N and I are planning things on the long-term, very long-term"

He swears he can see Taehyung's jaw hanging on the floor. His face is red from anger and Jungkook sports a cocky smirk.

The conversation ends here because you come back and soon enough, your friends arrive. Jungkook doesn't waste this opportunity to grab your hand and kiss the back of it, looking at your ex straight into the eyes. He even goes further in the provocation by gently caressing the forth finger of your left hand.

The diner ends with way less tension than at the beginning thanks to the presence of your friends and the spouses-to-be. Everyone makes an effort to spend a great evening with them and you're so happy, really. But you need some calm. Being around Taehyung and Siyeon this long and pretend like everything is fine is very hard to do. That's why, after everyone has finished their plates, you offer Jungkook a little walk on the beach. For your friends, it's just a romantic moment but for you, it's necessary to gain perspective.

And the light breeze and soothing melody of the waves brushing the sand help. It feels like heaven. Everything is so calm around you, just like you're stopped in time. A parenthesis of happiness shared with someone special...

You don't know how long you walk on the beach in silence. It's not like you need to say something. Not when the reflection of the moon on the ocean is so beautiful. It's peaceful to be around Jungkook. He doesn't have to say anything to comfort you, just him being here is enough.

"I don't think I've told you how thankful I am to you" You break the silence "Really, Kook, thank you so much. For coming with me this weekend and going along with my crazy idea" You both chuckle but the moment is full of emotions "But not only that. Thank you so much for everything you've done for me. You always support me and gosh, I'm so lucky to have you in my life" The intensity of Jungkook's black eyes on you spurs you to add: "As roommate"

Just for a second, his jaws clench before he nods and regains his soft features. That's why you think that you might have imagined it.

"You don't have to thank me. I'm happy to be here and I'm happy to help you whenever you want" He pauses before adding, like a joke or a dig "As roommate"

You both stare at each other for a moment. Jungkook is so handsome right now. He has this honey tan from the day in the sun. You realize that he has more of a man features now than when you moved with him. His jaw is more defined, his eyes more piercing and rarer in their doe shape. But he is attractive, that's for sure. He always has been but you don't know why you notice it way more now.

These thoughts disturb you but you don't have to think about them more because your roommate grabs your hand. His touch makes you forget everything else.

You just wonder why he is doing that: no one is around. You don't have to play your fake boyfriend/girlfriend roles. Yet, you don't move your hand away. On the contrary, you squeeze his big and warm palm and head, hand-in-hand, to your room.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

"Should I sleep on the couch?" Jungkook questions, clearly embarrassed

You have both put your pajamas on, ready for a good night of sleep after all the events of the day. That certainly explains why you haven't talked about the elephant in the room yet: the famous one-bed-situation. Since you're pretending to date, you obviously couldn't take two bedrooms but now, what are you going to do?

You're not kids anymore and the bed is big enough for the both of you. However, you're feeling... weird at the idea of sharing it with your roommate. For you, it's an intimate thing. Yet, you can't let Jungkook sleep on the couch while the whole thing was your idea. But, on the other hand, you can't sleep on the couch yourself when you'll have to be fully operative tomorrow for your friends' wedding.

You are both looking at the bed like it's your worst enemy. Yet, it looks so comfy. It's hard to resist to be honest.

The only solution is...

"We can share the bed"

Your voice is a little higher than usual and you don't think you've ever been this red. But it's okay, you're an adult. It's not such a big deal to have a very handsome and attractive man in your bed, right?

"I mean, if it's okay with you" You add quickly when you spot the surprised look on Jungkook's face

"Personally, I'm okay with it. But are you?"

There is playfulness in his tone and rather than soothing you, it actually makes your heart beat faster for undetermined reasons.

"Yeah, of course" You half-lie — you're not 100% sure you'll survive the tension

"Great then!" Your roommate exclaims but decides to complicate things for you when he takes off his t-shirt, leaving him in his grey jog shorts — because he obviously had to chose grey ones

Your staring eyes push him to give you an explanation.

"Sorry but it's too hot here to sleep with a shirt. But it's nothing you haven't seen, right love?" He teases

Yeah, it's too hot to sleep. Especially when those abs are on display.

You join the bed, using it at an excuse to run away from him. You bite your lower lip and quickly turn around to lay on your side. Facing the wall is the only way to control your want to caress his appealing muscles… You want to slap youself in the face for thinking that because Jungkook is your roommate. Fantasying on him will make living with him very hard and you’re not ready to give up the delicious kimchi fried rice that he sometimes makes in the morning.

"Good night" He wishes as he jumps in the bed too

"Good night" You reply, your throat a little dry

"Are you okay?" Jungkook worries and scoots closer and rests on his elbow to have a look on your face

Gosh, you're clearly aware of his body right behind you. You can even feel the heat caressing your back. Your own body reacts — or one specific part of your body to be exact.

You nod and shut your eyes close, trying to find sleep as soon as possible. You hear Jungkook chuckles behind you and he gently caresses your shoulder while wishing good night once again and settles on the other side of the bed.

You have to fight every inch of your body not to press yourself against him. You have to remind you once again that Jungkook is your roommate and he only pretends to be your boyfriend. None of this is real. It's just pretend.

But your sleeping body doesn't seem to care.

When you wake up the next morning, your face is resting on his chest, your arm thrown across his torso and your leg clinched around his hips.

You carefully lift up your head and you exhale out of relief that Jungkook is still asleep. You move carefully and slowly to put some distance between your bodies but sleepy Jungkook growls and hugs you tighter.

"Baby..." He mutters in his sleep and gosh, your heart does backflips in your chest

It's just impossible not to die from his cuteness. But there is no time for that because a diplomatic incident between roommates is close.

The first step is to move your leg. But the second you do so, your eyes lands on his morning wood. Red rushes to your cheeks as the bulge is clearly visible in his pants. 'Okay, it's just a physical thing, it has nothing to do with you' You force yourself to remind.

Second step: you gently grab his arm around your waist and push it away. You stop breathing in order to detect any sign of awakening. Thankfully, Jungkook is a heavy sleeper.

Last step of your mission is to get out of bed. You move as slowly as you can and sigh in relief when you're on your feet. You rush to the bathroom, just to witness your blushed cheeks in the mirror. You have to stop reacting so much to Jungkook, your roommate.

But you squeak as your eyes land on your neck: the hickey is well noticeable on your skin. You already know that you'll have to put a huge amount of concealer to hide it — but someway, you don't really want to hide it. You easily convince yourself it’s to get back at Taehyung.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

"How the fuck am I supposed to tie it?" Jungkook rants

You peak your head out of the bathroom, your mascara still in your hand. You burst into laugh when you notice Jungkook's tie in a very comical knot. You're pretty sure a 4-year old child would do better. Your roommate throws a death stare at you but it only makes you laugh louder.

"Can you stop?" He growls and tries to tie it again, without success

"Come on, I'll help you"

Your playful smile doesn't leave you as you are walking to him but your heart certainly doesn't miss how handsome Jungkook is right now with his black suit. It's elegant on his fit body, just like it was made for him.

"You're 26 and you don't know how to knot a tie..." You tease him while your hands works on the black fabric, soft as silk

"Yah! It's not like I wear it on a daily basis!" Jungkook defends himself, pouting slightly

Actually, you wouldn't be surprised if he told you that he bought his suit specially for Namjoon's wedding.

"Here you go" You announce when you're done

You swipe away some imaginary dust on his shoulders just to be able to touch him. You admire how the suit wraps perfectly his torso.

"You're beautiful" He suddenly says, voicing your own thoughts about him, and his voice has never been softer

The unexpected compliment makes your moves stop and your eyes lift up to meet his. You can see the sincerity in them and you pat yourself on the shoulder for choosing this long pale yellow with blue flowers dress.

"Thank you" You manage to say despite the tension drying your throat, even more when Jungkook settles his warm hands on your hips

Instinctively, your own hands tighten on his large shoulders and your body gets closer to his. This tension is too much for you and your weak heart. Once again, you have to remember that you are just pretending to date. It's not good for your sake if it looks too real when it's unnecessary because it'll give you hope and then, you'll have your heart broken. And you certainly don't want to have your heart broken by Jungkook because, without completely understanding it, you know that it'll hurt far more than when Taehyung did it.

"We should get going" You state, putting distance as much on a physical plan as on a emotional one

Your roommate clears his throat just like he wanted to clear his mind too and agrees with you. With a weird atmosphere, you two leave your room.

You have about a five-minute walk to pull yourself together and enter your 'girlfriend-who-is-so-in-love-with-her-boyfriend' character — which, you're afraid to say, it's not so hard to do...

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

The wedding ceremony takes place on the beach, with white seats for the few friends that have accompanied you. You're not ashamed to say that you shedded a tear during the vows — giving Jungkook an opportunity to hug you tight and peck your cheek — and you're surely not the only one. The ceremony though was quite simple and quick because Namjoon and Tzuyu have rent one of the reception halls of the hotel.

Just like the rest of the common areas, it's all wooden and white curtains flying away with the breeze. It's not a huge hall but it has enough place for a dance floor, a bar and some tables for lunch. Honestly, it's your dream wedding since everything is so romantic. The only problem is that you don't have anyone to marry...

The man you thought you were going to spend your life with cheated on you and is right here with that girl. And the man you could want to marry is faking your relationship. You don't really know how everything went so out of control recently...

But it doesn't really matter because the said fake-boyfriend leads you to your table, a hand on your lower back. This very hand slightly goes down as you approach your ex. You don't hear it but Taehyung makes a not so nice comment about your roommate, complaining about how you could choose a tattoo artist — basically describing him as a delinquent — when you were with your ex, working at a prestigious law firm in Seoul. This comment makes Jungkook tense, especially his fists and jaws. He could throw punch but it wouldn't be smart — he doesn’t know why his fighting instinct jumps up every time he spots the stupid face of your ex. So Jungkook whispers, loud enough for Taehyung to hear it, something so scandalous that you gasp.

"Can I tattoo my name on your ass? It'd look so fucking cute"

How can he say something like that?! It's so scandalous, so... hot. Thankfully, by the time you should respond, you're far enough from Taehyung and Siyeon for them to spot your words.

"Jungkook!" You scold him but your red cheeks don’t do much to pretend to be firm "Don't say that!"

"Sorry" He apologizes but his proud smile is a clear sign that he doesn't regret at all "But the face Taehyung made totally worth it"

You roll your eyes playfully and push on his shoulder to make him sit down at your table. Since you'll have to say a few words — a little speech you've spent hours to write with Jungkook's help —, you are given the honor to be at the bride and groom's table.

You give a warm smile to Yoongi, Namjoon's best man. Despite knowing Namjoon for some years now, you've never spent too much time with Yoongi. It can be mainly explained by the fact that the black-haired man is not fond of social events and rather much prefers staying at home. The occasions on which you get to see this rare species are per se exceptional. However, Yoongi's beauty never fails to amaze you: his skin is so white, perfect like the most polished porcelain, but his hair is so black, just like his eyes. The contrast is strong, almost supernatural. Perhaps it's also the way that you can't read his face most of the times.

The way Yoongi stays quiet, looking intensely at you and Jungkook, makes you think that he can read right through you. Does he know that you're faking everything with your roommate? Even if he does, he welcomes you with a brief but friendly nod of head.

Jungkook seems to be more at ease around Yoongi than you are, starting the conservation without being offended by the silence from the other side of the table. Someway, a proud smile appears on your face when you watch your (fake) boyfriend trying his best to be friendly with your social circle. You know that, despite Jungkook's nature of friendlyness, he really wants to be appreciated by your friends. It warms your heart that he is doing more efforts in one weekend than Taehyung has done in a whole year of relationship.

You can't help a giggle at Jungkook being totally immersed into his story of how he went to the wrong apartment one time after drinking too much, in the wrong fucking building. You put your hand on his on the table and you're sure that your roommate doesn't even notice how intimately he intertwines yours fingers. He doesn't have to notice actually, because you do it for the two of you, blushing lightly under your makeup.

"It's good to see you happy" Yoongi suddenly says at you after Jungkook's storytime

You're a bit surprised by Yoongi's words though. First of all, because he doesn't talk much. Then, because you were happy before, you mean with Taehyung, right? Didn't you seem happy before? Are you happier now in a fake relation?

Those questions make you slightly frown and you just can respond with a nod of head. You try to deviate the conversation in order to think about that and ask Jungkook to tell the one time he has to take down the whole sink of the bathroom because you thought your ring was in it but it was actually in your jewelry box.

Thankfully, Namjoon and Tzuyu's arrival is a good distraction for your brain, and followed by the food served. You watch Jungkook frowning as he is chewing on his lobster, notifying you that he enjoys the meal very much. You even hear him exclaim a 'damn!' of appreciation.

On your side, Tzuyu elbows you to catch your attention.

"You look so in love. I'm so happy you found someone good after Tae" She whispers

You look in love? On the one hand, it's a good thing that you are fooling everyone but on the other hand, you're not sure to be that great of an actress. Do you look in love because you are? If that so, you are in a big mess.

"Well, Jungkook is nice" You choose to respond, carefully avoiding the part about you being in love with your roommate/fake-boyfriend

"He is whipped for you too, you know. He hasn't stopped looking at you when you weren't paying attention" Tzuyu giggles

Being taken aback is an understatement. You shouldn't pay too much care about what Tzuyu is saying because she thinks you are dating Jungkook. Maybe she just wants to be nice, or maybe your roommate's acting is amazingly believable for the people around you but you, on the other hand, shouldn't believe it too much. It's getting harder and harder to separate the genuine attentions of the friend with whom you've been sharing an apartment for four years from his behaviour as your pretend boyfriend. And you are messing with the two, too.

You clear your mind, swallowing the rest of your glass of wine. You don't want to think about that, you just want to enjoy your friends' wedding and enjoy someone 'loving' you for the weekend, even if it's just pretend and even if it ends tomorrow morning.

This new attitude allows you to recover your usual smile and you don't even mind Jungkook's arm on your chair when the diner is over, just like a protective boyfriend would do.

It doesn't mean that you get to leave your table just yet: now is the time for the emotional —sometimes embarrassing — speeches.

Namjoon is the first one to start. He thanks everyone for coming to the wedding and basically declares his love all over again to his new wife. Tzuyu can't help a few tears during her own speech, insisting that the wedding is just like she has imagined since she was a young girl and that all the guests — minus Taehyung you imagine — are welcomed to their house after their honeymoon.

You are intrigued by Yoongi's speech, wondering what such a quiet person will say in front of a crowd, even though it's just a gathering of a few friends. You are truly surprised to see how at ease he is. It looks like he is doing that exercise everyday, even adding a few jokes. Yoongi doesn't talk for long but that's not surprising. He just expresses his genuine happiness for his best friend and wishes the best for the newly married couple.

When it's your turn, you can't help but feel a little stressed. Jungkook must feel it because he gently squeezes your hand and gives you an encouraging smile.

You stand up and you immediately regret looking at your ex since he is making out with his girlfriend — in quite a disgusting way if someone asks you. You quickly look away, searching for a more friendly face and settle on Hoseok. His sweet smile gives you the courage to start speaking after clearing your throat and swiping your sweaty palms on your dress.

"I'm not used to give speeches but I'm used to talk about love. I think it's no secret for anyone here that I'm a huge romantic. I mean, romantic comedies have no secret for me!" You're relieved to earn a few laughs "And I have to say that I'm a little bit jealous about Tzuyu and Namjoon: it was love at first sight and they haven't stopped loving each other since then. I think we all want to have someone that loves us like Namjoon and Tzuyu love each other. I am so happy to be here to witness your love" You say to the couple, your eyes a little blurring because of your tears "I just want you to be happy every single day of the rest of your life together and I hope I'll be able to stand in front of you in the future and tell you that I found a love just like yours"

You can't stop yourself from looking at Jungkook when you end your speech. You only hear in the distance the cheering of your friends because you are too occupied to try analyzing your roommate's face.

He is looking at you funny and you don't know why. Did you say something wrong?

You don't have time to question yourself more than that since a crying bride hugs you tight and whispers in your ear how touched she is by your words.

When you get to look back at Jungkook, he seems to be the same as always: bunny smile and scrunched nose. You might have imagined everything, after all, you had tears in your eyes...

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

It's dance time.

You wouldn't usually dare to step on the dance floor but Jungkook has whined to you. You finally sighed and took his reached hand. And you don't regret because you are having a lot of fun, dancing with your friends. You don't even care that your moves are not very elegant because, except from Hoseok, your friends are not professional dancers.

You have to admit that Jungkook is pretty good but it's not surprising since the man has no weakness.

However, the whole mood changes when a slow dance fills the speakers. You hesitate to step out of the dance floor but your roommate gently grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him.

You rest one hand on his large shoulder and his tattooed palm wraps the other. Soft, warm and comforting. Just like his personality, you think to yourself. You feel coated in a strange atmosphere but it’s not unpleasant, not at all. It’s good, it’s perfect. You realize that you love dancing for Jungkook, you love how he holds you tight against him.

“Taehyung is looking at us” He whispers in your ears and you’re surprised to have even forget about him while he is the very reason of you being in Jungkook’s arms “Can I kiss your neck?”

You don’t think twice before nodding — and not because of your ex.

Your breathe itches when a soft pair of lips lands on your thin skin. Goosebumps cover your body but it’s not like you can’t think about it. All that you can feel is the tenderness of the kisses Jungkook settles on you. It’s divine, truly divine. You’re too caught in the moment and maybe Jungkook feels the same because his kiss turns into sucking. His hickeys on your neck heats to your body, builds tension in you and you’re having a hard time concealing a moan. You wish he’d never stop.

"Your speech was nice" He says lowly, almost out of breathe

He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck so you don’t see the way his dark eyes shines with hunger.

"Yeah, I changed the end a little bit" You manage to answer

You don't know why your heart beats so fast. It's not the first time you're this close to Jungkook during the weekend but it feels different. You want to touch him more gently, almost with love — which one, you're not sure yet.

"It was perfect. You were perfect"

Is he aware of what he is doing to you? Probably not. Your roommate doesn't know that those sweet, sweet words are the kind of things that makes you fall in love.

At this moment, you realize that you are, indeed, in love with Jungkook. Since when? You don't know and it's not even important. You have a way bigger problem: you are in love with your roommate, who is currently pretending to be your boyfriend. So, it's basically a you-problem and if you tell Jungkook the truth, he will just say that he was acting just like you freaking asked him to!

To sum up: you're doomed.

It's not like you didn't know. Like you said, you're a fan of rom-com. You should have known that you would fall in love at some point, especially when the guy is this attractive... And yet, here you are: just acknowledging that you love your roommate, in a middle of a slow dance, in the most romantic place on Earth.

You sigh at your stupidity.

"Everything's fine?" Jungkook asks with a frown

"Yeah, yeah. I just need to use the bathroom real quick" You let him know

You give him a small smile that disappears when Jungkook gets closer to land the sweetest peck on your cheek, very close to the corner of your mouth. The man is going to kill you.

"I'll wait for you" He promises and gosh, you wish he was talking about your love and not your pee

You nod and run away as quickly as you can, not aware that your ex has followed you.

Your fake boyfriend, however, has seen it clear as day. And he was ready to stop him when Siyeon came in Jungkook's way.

"There is no point" She says, sipping on her glass "You know that Taehyung wants her back, right?"

Even though Jungkook's jaws clench, he nods. He couldn't misinterpret the way Taehyung was looking as you. He was jealous of Jungkook but he was also hurt. And who Jungkook is kidding? You literally asked him to play your boyfriend because of Taehyung. If he asks for a second chance, will you say yes?

"She's with me now" He says with a dry tone

Jungkook doesn't know if he is trying to convince Siyeon or himself. He has a little hope that you won't fall for Taehyung again — for some selfish reasons but also because he doesn't want you to be hurt again.

"Yeah, and Tae is with me but here we are" Siyeon says with bitterness "If they are getting back together, why shouldn't we be together? We could have some fun" She adds with her seductive honey voice

Siyeon is beautiful, Jungkook acknowledges that. And she is damn good at flirting, scooting closer to your roommate, almost touching him. But Jungkook can't do that to you. He is supposed to be your boyfriend and it would be pretty fucked up if he was involved with the woman your ex cheated on you with. More than that, he is not attracted by Siyeon at all.

"Like I said, I'm with Y/N"

Jungkook's tone is a little harsher.

"And like I said, Taehyung wants her back"

Jungkook doesn't know why this memory comes to his mind right now. Maybe it's just defense mechanism: it comes to his mind to reassure him that you won't actually get back together with Taehyung. It's strange though because he has tried so hard in the past to erase it from his brain... But right now, it can't fight it and this night, the first time you invited Taehyung at your place at the beginning of your relationship a year ago, is clear as day.

Jungkook's earphones and video games were quite effective to conceal any noise coming from your room. Your roommate knew that you had a boyfriend, you had told him about it and you looked so happy and excited that he couldn't say 'no' when you had asked him if you could invite Taehyung here. It was also your apartment so you could bring anyone you wanted to be honest. But your caring nature still told you that the correct behavior was to ask your roommate first.

However, Jungkook knew that something would happen in your bedroom tonight, which was making things awkward for him. When you had moved in, Jungkook was very clear with himself not to see you as a woman, just for purpose of healthy cohabitation. He tricked his brain so he could see you like a little sister and it was very convenient when you would step out of your room in the morning with a sleepy face, messy hair and a t-shirt barely covering your panties. After witnessing that scene a few times, Jungkook adopted a new habit: going to the gym before you would wake up.

But now, with a man in your room, you were not your innocent self and Jungkook knew it damn well. It was hard to pretend you weren't probably naked and having sex. Your roommate did not want to hear a single thing about what was going on, which explained the maximum volume of the video game in his ears.

However, he had a problem: he was so fucking thirsty.

After debating for a few long minutes if he should risk it, he decided to be quick and grab a glass of water.

Opening his door, he peaked his head out carefully, waiting if he could hear something but it was quiet for now. 'That's my luck' He thought and basically ran to the kitchen. But well, it was not really his luck because, as he was waiting for his glass to fill up, he heard.

It was faint but he couldn't mistake it: you were moaning. Cute little moans that you wanted to mutter it seemed. From your sounds, it was hard not to imagine how you would look like all naked, pressed against him when he would fuck you dumb, making you scream his name and not those small groans. Jungkook could feel his cock hardening despite his scolding to his body. He didn't want to physically react at you having sex with another man — no, having sex, period. He was ready to run back to his room when he heard your conversation. He knew he shouldn't listen but his curiosity had won the battle.

"Did you finish?" You asked with a small voice

"Yeah" Taehyung replied between his pantings, his smile noticeable in his voice "And you?"

"Well... no" You were clearly embarrassed to confess it

Jungkook almost bursted into laugh. Not to praise himself but it was rare he wouldn't make a woman come before him. However, it was not a problem if it happened because some women just need more time to reach the high. He would just eat her out or finger her until both sides were equally satisfied.

However, he wouldn't have imagined your boyfriend's response.

"Sorry, doll, I'm so tired. Next time, okay?"

Your roommate had no problem picturing you nodding at him. You didn't like conflicts, you didn't like contradicting people. Sometimes it was frustrating for Jungkook — he even had had to take your phone when you had called the after-sales service for your computer. The employee had told you they couldn't do anything and, of course, when Jungkook had stepped in and clearly said that he wouldn't give up until you were fully refunded, the employee had seemed to be nicer all of sudden and a magical solution appeared.

"I'm going to the bathroom" You notified Taehyung

Jungkook panicked and was quick to reach his room, your conversation with your boyfriend replaying in his brain. He couldn't understand why Taehyung would do that. He also wondered if it was usual for you not to come when you had sex with him. That's things he knew he shouldn't think about but it was hard not to do when he knew you would have come with him... And Jungkook wouldn't let you sleep without at least two more orgasms just because you deserved it for being this cute and this pretty.

But his body froze when he heard you entering the shower. The bathroom was next to his bedroom and the shower shared a wall with his room. At first, Jungkook thought he was imagining things and that it was just the water running thought the pipes. But no.

You were masturbating.

Jungkook could hear your choked moans, probably when the showerhead was aiming your clit directly. And it was not good for your roommate. It was impossible not to have a boner.

"Oh god!" You moaned, a little louder and Jungkook was gone

He said "fuck it" and freed his hard cock from his sweatpants. He started pumping his dick at your groans, picturing you in this fucking shower pleasuring yourself. He imagined joining you and making you cum while your stupid boyfriend was sleeping in your bed.

"Fuck" You moaned again and it was even more arousing for Jungkook because you never cursed

You were such a good girl, and now you were masturbating right next to him. He wondered which naughty words could come from your appealing mouth when you were fucked good. Jungkook would have loved making you say all kinds of bad words, turning you into a sin when you were the perfect picture of an angel.

"Shit, Y/N..." Jungkook whispered to himself when your image became too vivid for his sanity

Your moans got a pitch higher and Jungkook knew you were close. He increased his pace, stroking his dick insanely fast but he couldn't stop. This moment was one of the most erotic ones of his life: you pleasuring yourself in the shower, having no idea that he was listening to you and jerking off on you.

"Come on, baby, cum for me" Jungkook spurred you even though you couldn't hear him

But it didn't matter because chance made you come right after, and Jungkook finished too, his cum making a mess on his fist and pants.

Even though it was one of the best masturbating sessions of his life, Jungkook promised himself not to ever think about it again because, at the end of the day, what he did was so fucking wrong.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

You made a decision. You looked at yourself in the mirror and found a strength you didn't know you had. And you are sure about it: you are going to step out of this bathroom and you are going to confess to Jungkook.

So what if he doesn't share your feelings? Jungkook is a good man, he won't make a fool out of you and if anything, you know he'll just feel bad for you. But the most important thing is that you are sure of our feelings and you are not ashamed of them. Actually, it's a privilege to have such a friend and roommate in your life.

You give yourself some last words of encouragement and step out of your hideout.

Instantly, all the courage you've managed to gather fades away because you are facing Taehyung. You hate that he can destroy so easily the mere confidence Jungkook gave you. You wished you could just avoid him but he calls you out.

"What do you want?" You ask a little cold

"Give me another chance" He says out of the blunt

Your eyes widen as you wonder if you heard well. You certainly did not expect that. But you also can't believe his nerve: he cheated on you, came to the your friends' wedding with his new girl and now he wants another chance?!

Honestly, if he had asked a few days ago, maybe you would have fall again for him — because you genuinely thought that what you were feeling for him was love — but it's not the case anymore. Not after Jungkook. You acknowledge that it's a strange thing to say when you are actually not in a real relationship with the man and that you have tried real hard to convince yourself that your feelings were not what they looked like. However, now that you have stopped denying, there is no turning back.

You only manage to reply a chocked 'what?', still shocked by Taehyung's announcement.

"I made a mistake. A big mistake" Your ex explains, getting closer to you with hope in his — you hate to say it — beautiful brown eyes "Seeing you with someone else made me realize it. I am so sorry, Y/N, please just give me another chance"

"Are you drunk?!" You exclaim, half choking

"I'm not drunk!" Taehyung defends himself, almost offended "We could start again and forgive each other. You know that I—“ But you cut him off

"Forgive each other?" You scoff "I did nothing wrong, Taehyung!"

"Well, you lied to me when you said that nothing was going with your roommate and that nothing could ever happen" He states

He clearly looks pissed but it's not your problem. You can't believe he is placing on the same level his cheating and your fake relation with Jungkook — well, to be fair, Taehyung doesn't know it's fake and he probably assumes that you've cheated too if you are with someone else this fast after your breakup.

"But I didn't cheat!" You yell, unable to contain your frustration "You cheated on me and you broke my heart but guess what? Thank you because if you haven't, I wouldn't have noticed how bad you are for me. I don't love you anymore and I am not going to apologize for finding a good man who takes care of me. Jungkook is good for me and I'm happy when I'm with him. He makes me happy and I'm in love with him. So please, be respectful to Siyeon and I will act like this conversation never happened"

You turn away, proud of your badass moment but stop and squeak. Jungkook is standing right there. He. Has. Heard. Everything.

If the ground could open and swallow you whole, you'll be blessed. But it stays hard as rock for a greater humiliation of yourself. You didn't plan to confess — if you can call that a confession when you made it to the wrong person — this way.

You stop breathing, not knowing what to say or do. Everything went so wrong so fast.

But as usual, Jungkook saves the day and simply grabs your hand to escape your ex-boyfriend's stare.

. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

After the little interaction with Taehyung, neither Jungkook nor you are in the mood for partying. Even though you feel guilty for leaving your friends' wedding party, you know that you'll only ruin the festive atmosphere. Your roommate seems like he doesn't mind and you're pretty sure he feels the same since he has not smiled once, which is rare, but you don't quite get why he is like that.

You don't have to talk to each other to agree with heading back to your room. Maybe being in a more quiet place will help to get your mind straight.

You still don't speak to Jungkook when you reach your door. You don't really know what to say and the same goes for your fake boyfriend.

The awkward air around you spurs you to lock yourself in the bathroom. Honestly, you pray that a hot shower will clear your mind and yeah, it does help a little. But when you grab the knot after changing into your pajama, you don't feel like you're strong enough to face Jungkook. The truth is that you’re embarrassed but you don’t even know why. Is it because he has heard you? Or because he has seen you loosing your temper in front of your ex? Or just because your feelings are all over the place and you don’t know how to deal with it?

He heard everything and you totally terrified that he'll break your heart, even though it's not what he wants. But one thing is sure: you can't hide in the bathroom forever. So you gather your courage and open the door.

You didn't expect to see a defeated Jungkook, sit on the bed with his head in his hands. He must have been like this all the time you were hiding because he is still wearing his shirt, even though he has loosen up his tie around his neck.

You hate to notice how hot he looks despite his... his what actually? Misery? It can't be that.

"Hey" You say softly not to scare Jungkook who is so deep in his thoughts that he hasn't heard you approaching

"Hey" He replies automatically

He lifts his head up and your heart squeezes at his beauty and sadness in his black eyes.

"I think we should talk" You start, not very sure if you're ready for it actually

"Yes, we should" He encourages you with a faint smile

You sit next to him and you wish you weren't that aware of the heat coming from his body. You are sensitive when he is around, it's like you can feel things ten times harder than usual.

"About what you heard..." You wince, embarrassed about how things went with Taehyung — and also you're not sure how much Jungkook has heard actually

"Yeah, don't worry" He cuts you off "I know that you had to act like we are together, so you don't have to mind"

You don't like that. You don't like how cold and hurt he sounds. You don't like that he thinks you lied about your feelings. It's almost painful.

"It's not really how I wanted things to go" You scoff, speaking to yourself more than to him

You're feeling frustrated. You run your hand through your hair and grunt when you destroy the bun you forget you had done. Everything is going wrong. You wanted to confess but it should have come naturally. Why Taehyung keeps messing with everything in your life?

You are so mad against him that you can't even stay sit. You almost jump on your feet and start walking back and forth in front of Jungkook who is looking at you like you are crazy.

"Listen to me, okay?" You find the courage to say after a long minute of silence

You stay straight in front of him, hoping that your feet locked on the wooden floor will help you to get straight to the point.

"I realized something" You continue "This weekend, when I got to spend time with you, I realized that I don't love Taehyung anymore"

You are almost out of breathe with how fast your heart is beating and even more when you see the surprise on Jungkook's face.

"I don't love him. And also, I didn't lie when I said that I love you"

You want to pat yourself on your back for finally saying those words that scared you so much.

"I really, really love you, Jungkook"

You hoped it was like in movies, that your confession brought his confession but he stays painfully silent. Is it the moment you're going to be rejected?

"Can you please say something?" You beg with a broken voice and tears in your eyes

"I don't want to be your rebound, Y/N" He finally says

What?

Does he really think that? Doesn't he realize how perfect he is? That you've never felt something this strong for everyone, not even Taehyung?

"You're not!" You promise "Jungkook, you're not my rebound. You are just... perfect. I don't even know how I could have been so blind. I love you not because of Taehyung, not because you pretended to be my boyfriend this weekend. I love you because you are you"

"Can you please stop talking?" He asks softly, bringing his inked hand to his face and breaking your heart at the same time "You're confused right now, I get it" You want to argue but he doesn't give you time "But you can't do that to me. If you say that you love me just to break my heart afterward, I don't know if I can take it, not after this long of dreaming you would say those words to me"

You're taken aback now. What does he mean? You're afraid to misinterpret and yet, you want to believe it so much.

"I love you" You can't help but say one more time, just because you can't contain your love inside you anymore

You love Jungkook too much for your own good but who cares? He deserves so much.

You just want to feel close to him now, and for that you walk to him and place your body between his manspreading. You cup his so perfect face, admiring his beautiful dark eyes, the little scar in his cheek and his lips. He is so handsome that you're having a hard time breathing.

"I love you" You repeat so lowly that it's almost a whisper

You seal your words with a kiss. And it's the best kiss ever, especially when Jungkook kisses you back. The sensation of the cold lip ring against your burning skin is new but not unpleasant —definitely not unpleasant. Slowly, your hands leave his jaws to tie behind his neck as you're afraid he'll scoot away. However, it seems like Jungkook wants to have you closer — which you are absolutely down for — and grabs your hips to urge you to sit on his lap.

This proximity is great to deepen your kiss. You press your chest against his and your fingers play with his soft and black hair. You honestly didn't know that kissing someone could be this good. And all the stars seem to be aligned for you since Jungkook loves your kiss too, the proof being that he wraps your body with his strong arms, making sure you'll stay against him.

It doesn't take too long for the romantic kiss to turn into something else. Something more... heated.

You just can't help your hips from grinding on his lap, earning a low grunt of satisfaction from Jungkook. He even grabs your waist just to press you deeper, feel you better. You both internally curse at your clothes but you don't want to leave the warmth and wetness of each other's lips.

With regret, you separate from his mouth to catch your breathe but the air is cut off your lungs as you look at him. He is insanely handsome. His hair is a mess, similar to when he wakes up but sexier since you know you're the reason why. He also has this cute side with his faint blushed cheeks, but his lips are what attract you the most: they are glossy by the mix of your salivas and swollen. You even wonder how his lip ring is still hanging on his thin skin.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Because I'm not sure I can stop if we keep going"

You're surprised by the raspiness of his voice. Sure, you know his morning and hoarse voice but right now, it's different. Deeper, sexier and addictive.

You can only shiver, wondering how this voice would sound saying some outrageous filthy words.

You look at him in the eyes and they've never been this dark. But they are beautiful, so beautiful that you stop breathing for a second.

"I'm sure, Kook"

You don't recognize your voice either. You're not sure you've ever sounded this desperate before and yet, you don't care. Because it's true: you are desperate for Jungkook. Everyone seems to know except him and that's frustrating. Doesn't he know that this kiss is the best one you've ever had? That you don't even want to feel someone else's lips on you? Why can't he believe you when you say that you love him?

Frustration from these questions pushes you to capture his mouth again but this time, your hands work on his shirt to open every button. You definitely want to feel more of his skin and it's like a relief when his shirt is open enough for you to caress his bare chest. His skin is soft and warm under your fingertips but his hard muscles are right under it.

You scoot a little over, abandoning his perfect mouth to look at his torso and gosh, what a sexy man he is...

You only have a little peak of his tattoo shoulder and only the upper part of his abs but you are blushing like crazy. Jungkook is too hot to handle, that's for sure, but you don't really care burning yourself.

You run your hands on his skin and you're surprised — and pleased — to feel his hardening cock twitching as you do you.

"You drive me crazy" Jungkook whispers but you're not sure he is talking to you or to himself

The tattooed man buries his face in the crook of your neck to enjoy your touch even more. The second you are getting back at your task on the remaining buttons, he starts setting wet kisses on your throat, which makes you loose your mind. You can't focus on your moves, you only feel his warm mouth on your thin skin, kissing and sucking.

Your roommate smirks a little when he spots the hickey he's done earlier and he can't help but suck on it again, making it bigger and redder. He really much enjoys your choked moans but one thing he doesn't know is how wet your panties are right now. You're happy to be sited because you perfectly know that your legs are as soft as marshmallow.

But this hickey is not enough for Jungkook, not when the shadow of your ex still flows in his head. He wants you to be his, and not only for this weekend, not only for pretending. And he needs a visible proof of that. That's why he creates a whole constellation of purple marks on your throat and it's addicting. If it’s childish, he doesn’t care.

"Kook" You whine at some point when you reach your limit — you need him right now

"Tell me what you want" He teases you while he knows damn well that you're too shy you ask for it

You bite your swollen lips, driving Jungkook crazy. He really wants to kiss you again but he also wants you to answer, to see this new side of you.

"I-I want you" You decide to settle for, looking away but it's not enough for your roommate

"I'm right here" He says with a smirk

"Please" You whine, your eyes settling in his with all your courage

Fuck, Jungkook thinks. He doesn't even want to tease you anymore. You're too good for him and he can't wait any longer.

With ease, he grabs your waist and settles you on the comfortable bed. You blush even more when he gets rid of his shirt with urge. You brush his firm torso with your eyes and bite your lower lip at the noticeable bulge in his pants.

"Take your shorts and panties off for me" He asks and you deliver

You're not the most confident person when it comes to sex but with Jungkook, you feel safe. And the way he looks at you, like you were the finest piece of art, gives you some assurance.

"Shit, your pussy is so pretty" He curses lowly at your glistening cunt

His rough fingers slide up and down your wet folds, making you whine. You just need more, you're too horny for teasing but Jungkook doesn't care.

His thumb slowly draws circles on your clit and you can't help but arch your back and grab the sheets in your fists. Jungkook absolutely loves watching you like this. You are so gorgeous all desperate for his touch — just like he is for your love. He didn't know he'd have the chance to see this part of you but now, he is not sure he can get enough of it.

"Kook" You moan as his thumb applies more pressure

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" He asks but slides two fingers inside you at the same time, preventing you from answering

You gasp and moan simultaneously as the stretch feels so, so good and as his words are the softest ones.

"I'm gonna make you cum so good, baby" He promises

He enhances his pace, kicking the air of your lungs, and his free hand pushes your top higher so he can suck on your hard nipples. The cold metal of his lip ring on your burning skin and his teeth teasing your sensitive buds make it impossible for you to think straight — not that it’s time to do math anyway.

Your right hand goes up to caress or tug on his black hair or push him deeper against you — you can't know.

Your walls start clenching sporadically, a sign that you are close. But it's so good you don't want to stop. However, Jungkook seems to have a whole other plan since he slides a third digit in your dripping cunt.

"Oh gosh!" You chock

"Please cum for me, love"

You hate — love — that he is using the pet name because there is nothing you'd refuse when he does so. You reach the highest high ever, shaking underneath him and clenching on his fingers.

You have to take a moment to reach back to Earth but Jungkook doesn't urge you. He pull off his fingers from your hole and settles sweet kisses on your boobs, neck and cheeks. You're not sure you've ever felt so good. Jungkook is too good. You love him too much, so much that you want to cry but you gather all your strength to prevent your eyes from getting wet.

"You did good, baby" He praises softly, kissing your forehead

The smile that his words has drawn on your face disappears when you watch Jungkook leave toward the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" You ask, panic noticeable in your voice

"You cummed hard and you had a long day, you must tired" He explains like it was evident that you deserved some rest

"But... what about you?" You vaguely point out his crotch

"You don't have to worry about me" He smiles but you pout

It's not that you worry about him, it's that you want him. Yeah, you did come hard but you feel like you would never get enough of him, of his touch. And it took you a lot of courage to get to that point, you won’t chicken out now.

“I want to feel you” You manage to say with burning cheeks

Jungkook hesitates but a little pouted ‘please’ from you convinces him to come back next to you and kiss you even deeper. You enjoy his weight on your body and you enjoy his warmth, especially when he takes off you top completely. You’re left totally naked under him and you want him to be just like you. You mentally curse at his remaining suit pants but your bodies are too close to each other for you to sneak a hand and free him from his clothes (your only reward is the fabric of his pants rubbing your sensitive clit delightfully).

Your silenced wish comes true when Jungkook lifts up his body enough to undo his pants and slides them down along with his briefs and god, what a sight! You certainly didn’t expect him to be this big and this thick. You get it now when you heard him on the phone with his friends from time to time, bragging about his size. And still, he is damn modest!

You stare at his hard member, not really daring to touch it even when you crave to do so. And Jungkook seems to read your mind as he delicately takes your hand and places it around his dick that immediately twitches. Just like the rest of his body, his skin is soft, velvety even, but rock hard — you’re not complaining at all. You are completely hypnotized and you instinctively start some light stroking.

Jungkook closes his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose since your touch is delightful. Better than he could ever be able to imagine. Even with his cock in your hand, he can feel your shyness yet your tenderness. You’re an innocent girl doing filthy stuff and someway, it makes him incredibly horny. Call it corruption kink, he’d call it love. Now that he has a taste of you, he doesn’t want anyone else to touch you because there is no way they won’t fall for you.

“Do you like it?” You shyly ask when you brush his tip with your thumb, sending shiver down Jungkook’s body

“Yeah” He says in a shaky breathe

He cannot control a drop of pre cum from escaping, which makes his tip glistening — and appetizing for you — as you spread it with your fingertip.

You lift up your eyes and meet a very, very hot Jungkook. His eyes are dark, intense but you still can spot some shininess. It tells you that he likes how you touch him. It’s what you needed to gain confidence and enhance just a bit your pace around his dick.

Maybe you’re an expert, or maybe you don’t realize it but you are caressing the very sensitive part connecting his tip to his length every time you go up, and Jungkook is two seconds away from losing it. With a low growl, he quite roughly cups your face and kisses you messily. The sudden force and urge that you feel from him is overwhelming and you don’t even know how to move anymore. That’s why your hand stands still on his member that you feel twitching from time to time — especially when the tattooed man captures your swollen lower lip between his teeth.

“You are so precious” He whispers and his words seem so profound that your heart squeezes “Let me make love to you”

You nod instantly because there is nothing more that you’d like but then you freeze as reality hits you.

“I don’t have condoms” You say but disappointment is as noticeable on your face as in your voice

Jungkook looks at you, amused. He gives a quick and sweet kiss on your nose before heading towards his bag where his wallet is. With a victorious “Ah-Ha!”, he brandishes a metallic square fold.

It’s your time to look at him funny and, when he realizes it, Jungkook turns a little bit white — a sign of his panic.

“It’s not what you think!” He exclaims with urge “I didn’t plan to have sex with you — or with anyone! It’s just that I always have one with me, you know, just to be careful”

You wait for him to stop rambling and open your mouth, amused.

“I didn’t say anything”

The playful smile on your face cocks a brow on Jungkook’s face.

“You don’t have to speak, woman, I know what you think” He states as his usual confidence comes back

You playfully push his shoulder with your foot but Jungkook gently grabs it and settles a kiss on your inner ankle. The gesture is so tender, so intimate and so lovely that your heart could melt out of love. He can’t not realize that everyone would fall in love with him when he acts like that. Everyone is looking for someone that makes you feel this cherished and you just wish you were able to make him feel the same.

The tension builds up when Jungkook marks his way up your leg with kisses. Each one of them draws delightful goosebumps and wets your pussy a little more. When he is close enough to your core, Jungkook kisses your inner thigh one last time before settling a sweet kiss on your clit and you can’t help but giggle like a stupid teenager in love — but well, you’re in love with him.

You’ve never been this impatient while waiting for someone to put a condom on but Jungkook seems to shake your whole universe. When he is done and has settled his strong body between your opened legs, he looks at you just like he was wordlessly asking for your consent again, which you grant with a big smile and a light stroke on his cheek.

He still teases you a little bit when he grabs the base of his cock and slides it between your folds. The pornographic moan that escapes your perfect lips drives Jungkook crazy, and he cannot resist anymore. He needs to feel you. So he places his tip at your entrance and almost faints out of pleasure as your tight cunt throbs around him. He has no other choice than to bury his face in the crook of your neck to prevent from groaning your name, which would be very embarrassing this soon.

His tattooed hand finds yours and he intertwines your fingers in the best possible as he enters you slowly. You can’t help a gasp and squeeze his hand tighter because gosh, he is big. He is definitely stretching you, almost to your limits, and the pain blends into pleasure — something you’ve never felt.

“You’re okay?” He asks, not without worry, his eyes scanning your face

“You’re big”

“Sorry” He apologizes, almost embarrassed

“It’s so good” You reassure him and you witness relief on his handsome face

When Jungkook captures your lips again, you feel his urge coming back and he finally pushes his whole length into your cunt. You feel full. Jungkook is big and thick, and he fits so well in you. You wish you could keep him like that forever. Your legs wrap around his firm torso to keep him close, to cuddle him.

When he settles a slow but passionate pace, you feel like in Heaven. You love how Jungkook makes love to you because he is gentle but he still provides deep and strong dick strokes making you see stars. You moan louder and Jungkook curses when you tighten around him.

“You feel so right” He whispers in your ears before kissing the thin skin of your throat

His inked hand hasn’t left yours and his other one his gently caressing your boob. His hips know how to move to hit that special place inside you.

“Fuck” You moan and Jungkook remembers how bad he wanted you to say that when he heard you masturbating

It’s even better when you curse while he is fucking you and that thought spurs him to enhance his pace. Long forgotten is the slow and romantic rhythm, Jungkook has turned into a sex freak. The air is kicked out of your lungs, you can’t even moan anymore: your mouth hangs open.

“You’re so good for me, baby” He praises you “You’re taking me so fucking good”

His words make you clench and you know that he has felt it because his hand squeezes yours equally. You’re completely high on sex, your skin is sweaty and your brain is fogged. The sinfulness of your clapping skins and the light growls — due to his physical efforts and your magic pussy — in your ears arouses you beyond words. You’ve never been fucked like this before and you don’t want it any other way from now on.

“You like being fucked like that, uh?” He smirks

“Yes, yes” You chant, your brain fogged with pleasure of his dick pounding into you

“Perfect little girl is taking a big fat cock” He grunts and god, how sinful he sounds

“More, more!” You beg

Jungkook looks at you with a mix of awe and surprise — since he can’t believe how naughty his little cute roommate is — but he is happy to provide.

He digs his knees strongly into the mattress and lifts up his upper body, enjoying the view of your tits bouncing at the same time, and makes sure to pound into your dripping cunt rougher. Your whiny moans are so lovely that even if he would love to drive Taehyung mad by making him hear them, he is selfish enough to want to keep them for him only.

Your brows are furrowed and your swollen lips are parted to let the most beautiful melody fill the room. You look ethereal and Jungkook is afraid he is dreaming. That’s why, with apprehension, he gently caresses your cheek. But you’re real. You are truly under him, his dick is truly sliding inside you and fuck, the way you are creaming it is insane.

Your hands desperately grab the sheets while his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs to keep them against your chest. It allows him to get a better access to your pussy and fuck, he is pounding into you even harder. At this point, you don’t even know how he hasn’t broken the bed yet — or you.

“Look at you” He coos as his dark eyes land where your bodies connect — he swears he could faint at his dick in your cunt “So fucking cute. ‘Could fuck this pussy forever”

You wish.

“I’m gonna come, Kook” You notify him

The first orgasm he gave you was amazing but coming on Jungkook’s cock is a whole other level. Your cunt wants to clench but can’t because of his fat dick, which makes it even better. However, the pleasure is almost unbearable. Your hand instinctively finds his and you intertwine your fingers in a strange way as your digits are trapped between his palm and your thigh.

“Cum for me, love. I want to feel you squeeze my cock” His voice is so deep that it sounds like a growl

Your eyes shut down and your toes curl as Jungkook fucks you harder to help you reach your high. You have so much pleasure that a tear rolls down and witnessing it, the tattooed man goes insane. One of his hands finds your sensitive clit, drawing quick circles that make your body shake, and the other one squeezes your cheeks not so gently to help him capture your lips in a messy kiss. His sudden power over your body sends you on cloud nine and you cum so hard that you almost faint. You might scream a broken “Kook” but you’re not even sure and gosh, Jungkook doesn’t even slow down.

He keeps fucking you hard and fast, overstimulating you — triggering a sob from you.

“Fuck, you’re so hot” He groans before burying his face in your neck to focus on cumming too

“Please, Kook, I can’t” You tell him as you’re feeling way too sensitive now

He stops his ministrations on your poor clit and caresses your boob instead, trying to soothe you a bit, even kissing your throat. He prays you to hold on just a bit: the way your walls throb around his cock is delightful and he knows he is close too. You try to help him by running your hands in his sweaty black locks, bringing tenderness into this wild fuck — something that you don’t know how much Jungkook loves actually.

He growls at the same time he releases his seeds in the condom.

“Fuck, it was so good” He pants “You did perfectly, baby”

He kisses your forehead and your heart squeezes out of how gentle he is. You just wish that this moment never stops. That’s why you hold him tighter when he initiates a move to scoot away. You wrap your arms around his neck, hide your face against his neck. You just don’t want him to leave you — both physically and emotionally. It’s so painful to imagine that it’s the last time you get to cuddle him that you can’t help your tears.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Jungkook asks, alarmed

“Please, just stay like that five more minutes” You beg

Your wish is granted and even more since Jungkook’s strong arms circle your body and hugs you tight.

“Please don’t cry” His voice sounds hurt “I hate when you cry, baby”

Gosh, the pet name is not helping you to accept that this moment was actually one moment.

“It’s just that I love you too much” You confess and your words make Jungkook lifts his head up to look at you

He looks a bit confused because your tone sounds like an apology.

“Is that bad?” He questions

“No but it hurts. But it’s okay that you don’t feel the same” You try a weak smile despite your aching heart

“I've just made love to you, Y/N” He says, basically scolding you “I love you. I’ve fallen for you a long time ago”

Your heart stops but this time it’s because you’re too happy to even believe it. You can’t stop yourself from hugging him again and Jungkook hugs you back, smiling wild in the crook of your neck. He settles sweet kisses and makes you both roll on the bed so you’re on top of him. It’s crazy with how much softness you’re looking at each other, grinning like two idiots in love — which you are to be honest.

“Say it again” You ask

“I love you”

“I love you too” You giggle and you swear you could fly right now

“I have to do things right when we come back” Jungkook announces

“What do you mean?” You frown

“I have to take you on a date and do all the things cheesy couples do”

He sounds oddly proud of it.

“You want to be a cheesy couple?” You tease him

“First of all, we already are a cheesy couple” He kisses your nose, illustrating his point “Secondly, cheesy couples have the best weddings”

If you get to spend your life with such an amazing man, you’ll happily be the cheesiest couple ever.

Taglist @gimeow @parapiop7 @mylyus-blog @knjjjk @namelesskeid @nesisrey @somehowukook @turn02 @ttanniett @whoa-jo @sncx3 @vsr4197 @lerasi @coralmusicblaze @mimi122880 @missmorningglory @thatgirliehan @daisiesarepretty7 @vkjmjjk @reallygenerouskoala @hoseokteardrop

So sorry that it took this long but I hope that you guys love it 🩷 If you do, please like and comment 🩷

#bts fanfic #bts #bts smut #fanfic #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jungkook smut #kpop smut #smut #방탄소년단 #전정국 #정국 #방탄소년단 정국 #margotw10 #margotw10bis

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solbaby7 · 9 months ago

Note

I love your work, and I’ve been creeping on your master list and it’s so good 😭❤️❤️❤️… pls do one with Azriel and AFAB reader who finds out first that they’re true mates but says nothing at all, too scared that he’ll reject her cause he’s in love with Elain and she witnesses the whole necklace gifting/almost kiss between them and runs away, tries to avoid both of them for days and gets sick or injured or something and that’s when Az realizes it too and smut ensues 🫶😭❤️

Since You Have A Lover

pairing : azriel x afab!reader

warnings: angst babe, torture too (oops👀🤣), not proofread, swearing, probs typos, mild smut at the end, testing out the longer fics and then we’re gonna figure out if longer or shorter is better 🫣

thank you for the request bean! i switched it up a little to add some much needed angst but i’m so happy you’ve been enjoying 💗💗

oh and…educate a girl. wtf is afab?👀 respectfully ofc

—

Deep breaths and a lowered gaze is how you make it through family dinners as your stomach lurches uncomfortably.

The feeling never got easier, even after months of enduring the debilitating emotions that ensued from watching your mate love another.

It’s instinctual to be jealous—to compare yourself to Elain when Azriel refused to tear his eyes away. He was supposed to be your equal and yet the longer dinner went on with overhearing their hushed conversation and not-so-sneaky touches under the table; you felt anything but suitable in comparison.

Drowning those thoughts is surprisingly easy, a plethora of wine bottles are scattered about the table and not a single person bats an eye when you snatch one up for yourself. They’re too caught up in each other to realize you’ve slipped away; abandoning the suffocating love that permeated from every direction besides your own.

Fresh air helps a little, the stolen bottle of wine aiding in keeping you warm from the unforgiving nighttime chill. Eventually the cool bite doesn’t send shivers down your spine and you barely even flinch when bare skin meets cold stone, your gaze dipping down to lively town below.

Time moves too quickly as the observer, seconds bleeding into minutes until hours have passed and the bottle has nothing left to offer. There’s a brief moment where your foggy brain contemplates the effort it would take to retrieve another when your solitude is broken.

Two bodies burst through the balcony doors on the furthest side, mostly concealed by trees and flowers but you’d recognize those wings anywhere. A hand smacks over your mouth to conceal any sound, body freezing in place as you witness Azriel press Elain into the wall, his hands cradling the sides of her face lovingly.

A part of you shatters when you catch that sparkle in his eye, the eagerness in his movement to have her closer until her cheeks go flush and thick lashes flutter closed in preparation for the sweet kiss Azriel is sure to grant her.

You’re unable to stomach another moment and neither of them even flinch when you shuffle from your spot and make a bee-line for the exit. Tears cloud your vision, shoulders shaking and steps unsteady as you all but run through the halls, darting up the stairs and colliding right into another body. “Oh,” The startled sound is all but whimpered out of you and red eyes and splotchy cheeks are the first thing Nesta sees as you look up. “Gods, I’m sorry.” You scramble to your feet, retrieving the book she’d dropped in the collision. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching here I was going.”

“That’s not like you.”

A weak smile quirks at the corner of your mouth, unbound hair in unruly strands down your shoulders. “I’m not quite myself at the moment.”

Nesta hums in response, slender arms crossing over her chest and the fabrics of her nightgown shifts with the motion. Her gaze is scrutinizing, picking apart the truth from the lies and you’re infinitely grateful that she doesn’t call you out on your state of disarray. “Want me to walk you to your room?”

“No.” You whisper, hastily wiping your cheeks and attempting to smooth down stray hairs and wrinkled silks. “No, I think I’m going to go for a walk instead. I could use the fresh air.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

Nesta's neck cranes, slowly turning on the balls of her feet as you swiftly slip past her and make way for your chambers. Perhaps, it's the defeated slump of your shoulders that catches Lady Death's attention; that emptiness in your eyes that couldn't even be filled by the overflowing tears that stained your cheeks.

She considers waking Cassian--he always was better equipped to handle the emotions of others but you're already gone, disappearing behind the door without even saying goodnight. Something about the interaction forces her to linger, smutty book long forgotten as she waits to see you creep out that same room ten minutes later.

You're dressed to better accommodate the weather now. Thick leathers insulating body heat while subconsciously providing much needed compression--the tight fabric mimics comfort in its attempt to hold together the broken bits of you shoved inside.

Nesta's lips part, a million possible words resting at the tip of her tongue but you're quick to intercept, tone numb and alarmingly empty. "Don't wait up."

Being alone was supposed to be relaxing.

Distracting, at the very least.

But, all you could feel was the cool prickle of awareness at the back of your neck the whole time you sat at the edge of the mountains that overlooked the Sidra. Each time you'd slow your breathing and attempt to regulate the unusual beat of your heart with the captivating view of Velaris at night. While most were inside, the homes that resided there were full of life; lights glowing golden through their windows, laughs ebbing through the woodwork and creating a sense of serenity that refuses to wash over you as well.

Eyes narrow, shoulders squaring and fingers twitch for the sharp daggers strapped to your thighs. The thick trees you’d come through seems far less attractive now, branches craning out like grabbing hands with gaps of murky darkness that resembled giant mouths waiting to swallow you up. “Nesta?”

The chuckle that breaks through the clearing is anything but feminine. “Not quite.”

It happens too fast--the hand that smacks over your mouth to mute the startled scream that rips free. You push against the solid wall of a body stationed behind you, attempting to sway his stability in order to break free but a sharp sting in your neck renders you still.

The burn that follows is instant and before you can stop it, the unforgiving darkness becomes all you know.

The palpable tension at breakfast is suffocating.

Azriel's seething brood casts angsty shadows along his strong build, creating a visible wall between himself and his High Lord after the stern conversation he was forced into the night before. It runs on repeat in the shadow singers mind, the order given to back off on his affections towards the middle Archeron sister.

It seems cruel. A sick form of punishment that Azriel can't quite wrap his mind around because who was really in charge of the tragectory of his life? Azriel ? Or his High Lord?

The mere thought has his teeth grinding in silent contempt, his gaze flickering around the table before landing on the bare spot directly across from him. His brows furrow, confusion briefly sweeping away the rage as he considers the time--your usual schedule and the words leave his mouth before he can stop them. "Where is she?"

A brief pause, the casual conversation slowing to a halt until Azriel catches a glimpse of something on Nesta's face--a strain of guilt he'd seen a million times on a trillion different faces. "Left earlier this morning." Polished silverware scrapes at fine china, pushing aside food that her body refuses to indulge in. "Said she was going for a walk."

Discontentment settles into Azriel's bones--a feeling he struggles to understand and Nesta's answer only exasperates the unsteady sensation.

"In this weather?" Grey clouds are thick in the sky, shades of slate and granite completely masking the sun as relentless rains pour down from above. "When was this?"

"Around three."

Cassian swears lowly from beside his mate, a sturdy hand resting at her shoulders but the regret lacing his features speaks plenty about the decision to stay quiet for so long. It was too dangerous, especially after the last few meetings Rhys had with Kier in Hewn. Change took time and the Steward and his men were complaining about that change taking too long. Hateful words were thrown in the name of the people of Hewn City and how they had desires too; dreams of a better world for themselves and their children but the High Lord’s better judgement rose question to the other consequences that could arise from giving what they were asking for. "Ness that was nearly eight hours ago."

The screech of Azriel's chair draws attention, a sudden boost of fuel being injected in his veins. "Did she tell you where she was going exactly?"

Nesta’s tone turns into vitriol, a subconscious reaction to the guilt that gnawed at her bones for not seeking for you sooner after finding you in your state. The reminder of tears streaming down your face flashes behind her eyelids; the choppiness of your words through labored breathing. How desperately you’d attempted to wrangle it together just long enough to make it to your room and suddenly the eldest Archeron feels that familiar uselessness creep beneath her skin. “She didn’t leave me a map with a drawn out route—she just said she needed air.”

“While crying?” It wasn’t intentional, Rhysand seeing the flash of memory that Nesta had unknowingly projected; her mental walls caving for just a fraction of a minute before the iron doors had regained their formidable security. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Silverware clatters against the table, staining table linen in strawberry jam but no one seems to give a shit when the severity of the situation behinds to settle over the room. Nesta runs a hand against the material of her dress, smoothening out wrinkles and creases in order to avoid all of the eyes settling over her face. “I was just going to the library to read and we bumped into each other. She came from the balcony—I offered to walk her to her room but she just…” A sigh pulls free, jaw setting tightly. “I let her go.”

“Nesta.” Feyre’s slow shake of her head holds enough disappointment to have Nesta’s shoulders squaring on the defensive.

“I’m not some evil bitch, I waited up!” She seethes, the beginnings of those silver flames lapping at the steely grey of her eyes but the fight within isn’t truly directed towards Feyre or anyone else but herself. Because she’d felt the exact moment that you walked from the doors and winnowed away, that she’d made a grave mistake. Nesta’s shoulders sag, fingers bunching unforgivingly into the inky linen cloth until she felt the tips of her nails digging into the polished mahogany underneath. “I waited.”

Azriel’s already out of the room without a word.

He didn’t have a right to shame her because Azriel had a feeling he knew what sent you running.

His teeth grind together when thinking back to the night before when he and Elain had scuffled off onto the balcony at the witching hour; hoping their sins would be shielded by the dark cast of night. Too caught up in one another to consider another already occupying the space.

And, no matter how many times Azriel brushed his fingertips over the soft curve of Elain’s cheeks or vyed for a fleeting touch when passing in the hallways—the kiss he thought he wanted lacked the spark he was sure would flicker to life when lips grazed.

He’d pulled away so abruptly, brows furrowing in a stark line discontentment that was visible to anyone with eyes and then he heard the broken whimper of a gasp.

It’s been too easy to pass it off as Elain and far easier for him to forget about it altogether after Rhysand had found an embarrassed Elain rushing back to her room with flushed cheeks and an unsteady gait. He’d never heard his brother shout so loud, the veins in his neck protruding as he ordered Azriel to never even look her way again. That if a quick fuck in the dead of the night was what he desired then Azriel should wander along the cobblestone streets of Velaris and find himself a suitable pleasure house and pay for it.

The words act as fuel, Azriel’s senses working on overdrive; shadows scrying for information faster than ever before until they’d returned with something he could work with.

Dropped neatly in his palms were the cool steel of your twin blades that never left the secure holsters forever strapped to your thighs.

And they were soaked in your blood.

—

You recognized the suffocating dank smell that tended to fester when stuffed so far beneath the earth—the perfect dungeon.

One you’d been in countless times before, wearing that shadowy mask of indifference when masquerading as the soulless monster that became necessary to survive while in Hewn City. It took decades of assistance by Azriel’s side; an apprentice of sorts when the bounds of your affections had just begun testing its limits—wondering to see just how far you’d go just to be near him.

To get him to notice you. Your mate. Yours. Yours.

All of that seems so foolish now. Insignificant compared to the dire situation you’d found yourself entangled in.

Sharp twinges of pain throb up your neck, aches settling in from the uncomfortable position and it’s a strain when you shift in attempts to take in your surroundings. Fear lurches in your chest when your hands don’t move, restrained by chains that had you hung up like a prized hog after a fresh hunt.

Not good. Not good. Not good. So, not good.

“I always did love that look.” Immediately your spine goes ramrod straight, fingers clenching into fists over the cool bite of the chains as that voice washed over you like a bucket of water. Refreshing on your own terms and a horrible wake up call when it wasn’t. “When panic shifts into realization—truly a sight worth capturing. Especially when attached to such a delicate disposition.”

Delicate?

You’d never once used that word in ordinance to yourself.

Hearing it now, under such circumstances makes your heart lurch, it’s beat untamed against your ribcage and it takes every bit of strength left to smooth that look of utter calm across your features. “Come a little closer, let me show you how sweet I can get.”

The underlying threat is easily palpable and Kier is wise not to follow the bait; aware of the wounded animals ability to put up a considerable fight and he’s too coward to brawl fairly. “As tempting as that is, it won’t be me who plays with you tonight.” Your teeth bare into a snarl, pure promise rumbling from your chest and the sound encourages a chuckle from the male.

He’s not close enough to injure; to swing the brunt of your weight around for a well-timed kick that you knew would disable long enough to figure a way out of these damn restraints. But even with the distance between you, the resemblance between this male and Mor was striking. She’d inherited the shape of his lips, even if the words she spoke were far sweeter than the shit spewed from her predecessor. More similarities are spotted during your scrutinizing evaluation of him; the line of his nose, the shade of his hair, the confident air that oozed from his form—no matter how misplaced it was.

“I’ll kill anyone who dares lay a finger on me.”

“So much fight in you,” Kier all but croons, his eyes raking across your body in a way that was less than savory. “I can’t wait to see how long it lasts.”

Breathe.

Years of training beside the spymaster had prepared you for this very moment and it’s easier to drift back into the memory of just another session; before things had gotten so complicated and he’d just been a friend eager to teach if you were willing to learn. Countless times you’d been in a similar situation—you, waking up tied up to some chair with ropes securing every possible joint in place and Azriel would leave you there as long as it took for you to figure your way out of it.

Allow the thrum of your heart be the beat that keeps you focused.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.

The cell wasn’t very large, four stone walls covered in grime and mildew with just enough space for two grown men to fit semi-comfortably. No windows. One door with a thin slot at the top large enough for two eyes to peer inside. No fire. No light. No warmth. No breeze, just stale, dank air that tasted of iron when your breathed in too deep.

Just stay alive long enough to get help.

“What do you want from me?”

Kier inhales a greedy breath, his chest expanding in the ornate armor worn. It glistens even with no light—proving that even with his privileged title, he was never the one who got his hands dirty. “Many things,” He finally confessed, the words airy and nonchalant. He’s too cocky. Too comfortable. “But first, I want you to tell me about the Cursebreakers sisters.” He dares a step closer, arms crossed casually behind his back as a dark look begins to worm its way into his eye. “I want you to tell me everything you know about the Made ones and the power they stole from the Cauldron.”

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A smile works its way across his face—one so familiar it taints good memories with its stain. “I hoped you’d say that.” Kier walks past, the smell of his cologne burning your nostrils and you couldn’t imagine ever smelling tobacco and ash, bergamot and oakmoss without gagging ever again.

One knock on the thick steel door and slender male with hair like soot and eyes like a raven enters.

Your face remains a blank slate. Even as you take in the rubber material of his apron and the sturdy material of his leather boots. Well used gloves cover his hands and tucked under his left arm is a rawhide holder filled to the brim with all kinds of terrifying treats.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

“Who are you?”

He takes his sweet time answering. Making a show of neatly setting down the holder and undoing the braided leather straps holding it in place. “You can call me the Butcher—everyone else does.”

“How original.” A thick swallow to quell the nerves; to shove away the shake that threatened to disturb your carefully curated cadence. The chains rattle as you shift, the tips of your toes just barely skimming the cool ground beneath you but not quite enough to relieve your wrists of the burden of bearing the entirety of your weight. “Well, Butcher—come make yourself useful and loosen my chains, will you? It’s starting to chafe a bit.”

His head shakes in his denial, barely acknowledging the departing Steward and the heavy thud of the shutting door—a lock sliding into place. “You don’t really want me to do that.” For donning such a threatening title, the Butcher is deceivingly soft-spoken. It sends your nerves into a fritz, triggering your fight or flight and for the first time since your eyes had opened and the darkness had waned; that delicately woven web of control slips from your grasp. “If you’re as stubborn as I think you are,” The sharp ring of metal twangs through the air and in his grasp is a perfectly polished knife a little too curved to be considered a scalpel. “You’ll need something to hold onto. It helps with the pain…for a time.”

Breathe.

“Then let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

Butcher chuckles low under his breath, full lips concealed by an ever fuller beard—the only thing about him that wasn’t perfectly trim and proper. “Not a fan of foreplay?”

Fingers curl around the cool bite of thick chains, your chest rising and falling in a steady pattern as you began to dissociate. An attempt to keep your mind as protected as possible from whatever was to come. “I’m more of a rip-the-bandaid kind of girl.”

Death clings to the pristinely polished rubber of his apron, the creak of his gloves filling the space as worn fingers ready around the hilt of his weapon. “You know,” Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Disappear off into that numb place deep, deep within your mind. Ignore the bite of the blade poking around already sensitive wounds. “Under entirely different circumstances, I think I might’ve actually liked you.”

The switch flips so fast—too fast for you to catch but it’s impossible to miss the devastating burn that ripples through you as flesh is severed, muscle flayed and so, so much blood spilled.

It’s hard to keep track of how much time passes down here without access to windows and you’re certain that it’s intentional, aiding in the psychological aspect of their torture.

Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.

The masculine baritone of Azriel’s teachings repeated like a mantra in your mind until it becomes the only thing distracting you from the sound of your flesh tearing, your blood drip, drip, dripping a misshapen puddle beneath you.

You force yourself to keep conscious, mentally noting anything your eyes are able to latch onto. Insignificant things; ebony hair, umber skin, a brand burned into the middle of Butcher’s left wrist in a symbol half-obscured by his gloves.

There’s a block on your powers, not quite faebane in its most lethal dose but paired with the wards humming against the walls, you knew using magic wouldn’t be an option for you. “Tell me about the Made ones and I can stop.”

“I don’t know anything.”

Just stay alive long enough to get help.

“You live there with them,” Butcher goads, crooked teeth exposed when gritted into that grimace of a sneer. Leather creaks under the playful twist of his wrist, the sharpened blade carving at muscle and obliterating sinew until you swear it reaches bone. “You share drink and food, you fight beside them in battle and you expect us to believe that secrets aren’t shared as well?” Every breath is ragged, a sheen of sweat coating your skin and unruly hair sticks to the curve of your neck. “Tell me what you know before I decide to get a little more creative in my methods.”

“Even if I did know anything, why the hell would I tell you? What would Hewn scum do with such knowledge?”

Your words have nicked a nerve, robbing the Butcher of that soft-spoken charm and replacing it with something more sinister. “You say the same thing to that bastard Illyrian you’re always seen around?”

A brow quirks, furrowing ever so slightly as it became more and more apparent that this was more than some spur of the moment kidnapping. Their questions, the desire to keep you immobile and battered but not enough to render you unconscious—not enough to be fatal. For whatever reason, they needed you alive and judging by the desperation that claws its way to the edges of Butchers voice, his curses and demands falling on deaf ears as your mind runs on overdrive to accumulate all the information you could before it was too late.

Each breath grows more labored, lashes fluttery and thick with exhaustion but just when it feel like too much—when you feel like giving up and succumbing to the sweet oblivion.

The rake of talons brushes against your mental walls. A cautious prod, testing your durability and utter relief washes over you when that feline lilt floods your consciousness. “We’re coming, just stay awake.”

The syllables barely reach your ears, sound faded by the obnoxious ringing that refused to subside—a side affect from all the fucking screaming and shouting. Swears slurring together the longer you snapped at the male before you, knees jerking and wounds barking in agony when the heel of your foot smashes so hard into his nose, his skull caves in; limp body dropping to the floor with a thud.

It’s all the strength you have in you and the death-grip you have around the chains is released all at once. Time moves in slow motion as you dangle there, vision darkening at the edges and that thrum of your heartbeat loud enough to distract you anymore. “Rhys they want— they want…”

So much blood oozes from your wounds, drenching your leathers all the way through and you were definitely feeling the affects. Your vision blurs, lids going lazy with just enough time to hear that voice—Azriel’s voice bellowing your name. “Stay alive.” He mutters over and over and over when he’s finally reached you, adrenaline pumping so high that he breaks the chains from their bolt with nothing more than his bare hands. “Do you hear me? Don’t you dare fucking die on me.”

You swear you try to obey the command, desiring nothing more than to keep Azriel's attention after finally being front and center in it. But it just felt so safe held in his grasp, tucked so close to his chest while he rids you of your restraints and applies pressure to gaping wounds.

All you wanted was one second. If you closed your eyes just for a second to gather your wits then you'd wake up and everything would be okay.

It sounds like a good idea-- so good that you allow the peace to wash over you like a cool tide washing over the shore in the early days of the burning summer; ignoring the desperate shouts from a vignette of voices that fades in the background like the haunting final notes of a song.

—

Confusion crashes at you in unforgiving waves, memories --or were they dreams?-- flash behind your lids with each blink. A dull throb pounds behind your lids, aggravating your mental shields to the point where you feel them wobble with each breath.

"You should stay still." Azriel's saying without giving you time to clear through the dense fog plaguing your mind. Instead, he busies his hands with fussing over your blankets, carefully tucking bare toes and pressing a five finger grip on your sternum when you attempt to rise from the soft cushion of a mattress that certainly did not belong to you. "It took Madja a while to get you all stitched up. Are you in pain? She left ointments and a few tinctures."

He's graceful enough not to mention the owlish blink of your eyes and their befuddled examination of his room until the crackly rasp of your voice cuts through the space; both of you refusing to address the elephant in the room. "My head hurts a little."

"Yeah," Shadows fuss with warm rags, sweeping it over your forehead and dabbing it along your cheeks while others occupy themselves with filling a glass of water to offer. "Rhys will be by later to apologize for that, I'm sure."

Your brows furrow deeply, nose scrunching when you sip your water. "Apologize for what?"

"You were in distress. We thought you were going to--" Azriel abruptly cuts himself off, fingers curling into fists at his sides. "Rhys went in your mind, said that before you'd gone unconscious that you were trying to tell him something that seemed urgent enough to bypass the usual request to wait for permission."

Your heart begins to pick up speed in your chest and suddenly the desire to rise from this bed and run away was becoming horribly intense. Legs shift under the weight of a duvet that didn't belong to you, attempting to hide the way your sore muscles sink into the overwhelming scent of night-chilled mist. "Okay...and what did he see?"

"He saw you get taken," Azriel turns his back to you, expertly avoiding your eyes but the nervous energy buzzing off his skin was unmistakable. "He watched them carve you up and torture you for information about Nesta and Elain." The stabilizing breath he takes shakes his shoulders, the strong line of muscle barely concealed by the tight stretch of his leathers--leathers still stained in the blood of those who'd spilled yours, no doubt. "Rhys said that you didn't say a word. You didn't give them a thing."

"That's good, right?" A pillow is fluffed behind you, shadows doting on every need. "Then, why do you sound so upset?"

"Why do I sound so upset?" Azriel cruelly mocks, his aurate gaze positively smoldering with rage when they land on you. "Because, you almost died! You almost died in my fucking arms before I ever got the chance to—. What the hell were you thinking?"

The beating you'd endured does nothing to quell your fiery spirit, eyes lighting with life and lips running a mile a minute—too fast for your logical brain to keep up with. "I was thinking that they wanted information on your precious, little girlfriend." You all but spit out, childishly pushing away the comfort the duvet from your legs as you attempt to shuffle from Azriel's bed without disturbing the tight wrap of your bandages. Why the hell were you in here anyway? "I was thinking that maybe, it'd be easier for them to fucking butcher me rather than watch what would happen to you if it were Elain there in my place."

Silence stretches along the hardwood floor, cloaking up the length of the walls and muting out the low crackle of the fireplace; its flame gentle and calm in the midst of an emotional storm. "I almost wish you would've let it be her." Azriel fills the void, finally mustering up the courage to face you. "I could've survived that and whatever consequences came along with it because my mate takes precedence above all."

Just like that, all the spitfire you’d prepared in retaliation absolutely dissipates after hearing those two words. “Your mate.”

Azriel doesn’t confirm with words. Instead, he searches inside for the humming gold thread wrapped taut around his ribs, just above his heart and pulls. Fucking yanking at it with all his might and something sparkles in his eye when your body jerks in retaliation.

“You know?”

“How long have you known?”

Your heartbeat hammers against your ribcage, threatening to carve out a hole if that’s what it took to get to its other half. “A while.”

“And you’ve said nothing.” He says, tone sounding almost defeated. “Why wouldn’t you have said anything?”

“Because, Az,” The shadows have seized their tireless caretaking, sliding back into place beside their master as you lose the ability to accept the tender affection. “You wouldn’t have chosen me. Not before Mor and certainly not before Elain.” You’re quick to bristle over that part, not leaving any room for the spymaster to interrupt no matter how expressive his face became. “Besides, the bond is a choice not a burden and that’s what it would’ve been for you if I spoke up about it.” Pure determination is what allows you to bear the brunt of your weight , willing yourself to appear strong in the face of the male who could render you to cinders if he so pleased. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d really like to shower the dungeon smell off of me.”

A childish whine of a noise is ripped from your throat when Azriel huffs out a breath, murmuring something about you being stubborn as hell before carefully picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom. It's embarrassing, a furious blush burning at the apples of your cheeks as he starts the shower, adjusts the temperature and slowly sets you down. "Thank you for that but you don't have to do this. I can handle cleaning myself."

"You can barely stand on solid ground on your own."

"I'll manage."

"I know. What I'm saying is that you don't have to." You nearly faint on the spot when Azriel crouches down in front of you, his hands shaky but sure when unlatching the difficult ties of your fighting leathers. His teeth grit together when the fabric is loosened and carefully worked down your thighs, over your knees and tugged away from your ankles. "Just let me help."

Azriel is nothing short of respectful, you notice. He doesn't sneak salacious peeks at the endless expanse of bare skin that he exposes. Doesn't once mention the tremble of your breath or the way your fingers seem to bite into the flesh of his arms whenever a new article of clothing is removed and dropped to the floor. Even after he's eased you into the shower stream; standing before him, perfectly presented on a soaking wet platter—he keeps his eyes trained on your face.

Shadows thicken over sensual bits, providing a shield between you and the male diligently applying soap to rag. Each drag of the slightly rough material against your skin releases a tension you hadn’t noticed you’d been carrying and all you can do is watch as he rids your skin of the thick film left behind when magic was used to clear away muck.

Eons must past before words are spoken, a this time Azriel is more intentional when he chooses them--more intimate when he relays them. "I'd always hoped for a mate. Ever since I was a boy and my mother told me stories about two halves scouring the world to finally become whole again." You're malleable under his care, pliant when he lifts your arms to scrub underneath and damn-near boneless when he turns you with slippery hands to slowly work the knots from your back. "I had always hoped that one day, I too, would find my equal." Azriel clears his throat, returning back from whatever memory he'd been sucked into but the massage doesn't stop; it only drags lower. "Then so much time had passed and I started to wonder if I couldn't find them because I wasn't being forward enough but that only lead to misplaced affections and unfulfillment."

"Azriel, I'm not sure if I really understand--"

"I felt something for you—something stronger than friendship but I pushed it away. I ignored it and looked elsewhere because I can bare not being as close with Mor and it’s as easy as breathing to never see Elain again but losing you—ruining the peace I feel when I’m with you would’ve broken me.”

Tears well in your eyes, a thickness welling in the back of your throat and your skin burns where his fingers touch, lingering near the dip of your back and just barely curling around the curve of your hips. “Az, you don’t have to say any of this to make me feel better. I just wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy.”

“Then, please don’t reject it.” His warmth ripples over every inch of you, your neck craning to make room for the forehead he helplessly drops in the crux of your shoulder. The perfect line of his nose drags along the curve of it, inhaling the soothing notes of your scent mixed with his body wash. “Don’t reject me—this is all I’ve ever wanted.” Finally his fingers curl around your hips, the grip gentle but oh, so claiming. “Can’t you feel it? This rightness.”

Raw emotion swims in the amber tones of Azriel’s eyes when you turn in his arms; searching within those rich shades to find any detection of a lie.

Not one reaches your radar.

The line of your vision drops, creeping down his nose until it fixates on the plush pink of his lips. Instinct takes over, offering a gentle nudge until the space between two is eaten up and breath becomes shared as a line was about to be crossed—a prophecy fulfilled.

When Azriel’s lips finally brush against yours, it’s like a coil snaps, unleashing an animal he hadn’t known existed. Sure, he had plenty of experience with childish crushes and boyish infatuation. But this, Cauldron, it nearly takes his breath away with its intensity—the burning desire that rips through his veins like a forrest fire.

One kiss bleeds into two hands desperate to acquaint themselves with your body until all that mattered was you, your spymaster and the sentient shadows protectively surrounding you both. “Azriel,” You all but keen in his ear, chest heaving and hips rolling into the hardness of him pressed against you.

“Mate.”

A whimper cuts through your throat, neck craning to make space for the perfect bruises he was sucking into the skin there. “I want you.”

“You have me,” He promises over the frantic beat of your heart, tongue laving over the soft fat of your breasts. “Even when my bones are rotting in the dirt, I’ll belong to you. My mate. Mine.”

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